Jabberwocky
by harperrose87
Summary: BOOK #2 [cont. of "CLANDESTINE"]: William Van De Kamp has been sentenced to supermax solitary confinement & his partner Cara English is determined to exonerate him. Can Mulder & Scully save them from being used as pawns in a deadly mind game designed by the Colonists? Or will they fall prey to the power of their deepest, darkest fears? - (BOOK #3: "FIRE" online now!)
1. Author's Notes

_**Author's Notes:**_

_Welcome to Book #2 of the post IWTB series I've written! If you haven't caught up on what happened in the first book "Clandestine", I suggest you read that book prior to this one, as it will make the most sense that way. I am so incredibly grateful for the encouragement I've received from the wonderful authors and readers on this site to continue this story. Each review has made an indescribable impact and I can't thank you enough for taking the time to not only read, but provide reviews for "Clandestine."_

_Let's get a few orders of business out of the way, just to bring some clarity to your adventure:_

_1\. The history (both real and X-Files-specific) and the places I include in this series are 99% real, with only extremely minor artistic liberties taken on geography. I strive to keep the stories in this series as relatable as possible, using real places to host the events written. I also strive to bridge these stories to the past using a rich sampling of X-Files series history to provide continuity._

_2\. What this means, essentially, is I don't own a damn thing about the X-Files, only what I write and any additional characters that have not appeared on the show previously, including my adult interpretation of William (as well as the original cover artwork). You can bet your boots that if I owned the X-Files, there would be more movies, a new series and anything else I could dream up._

_3\. I display real people in my cover images for this series because when I dreamt up these tales, they are the people that inspired the characters. Personally, having this visual aid helps me to eliminate the guessing game of what a "new" person looks like while reading, allowing me to enjoy their personality attributes that come alive through the dialogue. The people I've modeled the main characters I've introduced after physically, and maybe even some personality traits, are as follows:_

**_Brendan Fehr (Will/William Van De Kamp)  
__Jennifer Lawrence (Cara English)  
__Michael Ealy (Brody Wesson) (debuts in "JABBERWOCKY")_**

_Again, I don't own them. We'd all be in trouble if I did._

_4\. I believe in Mulder/Scully, and Doggett/Reyes. Never shall they be otherwise to me - no other romantic combinations exist in my world. Ye have now been warned._

_5\. This story's rating hovers between a T and an M. I think it's more T than M, so I listed it as such. There are four letter (and five letter) words used thoughtfully to match the characters, setting, violence and implied scenarios. Don't want any of that? Then go no further than these notes. Again, ye have now been warned._

_6\. When reading, please have fun. Reading is such a beautiful and personal adventure. I was inspired to write these pieces because I lost too much sleep after thinking about them for so long, but mainly because it allows both the people I love and perfect strangers to go on an adventure together and to forget the world even if just for a moment. Get lost in this story - or any story you read. I guarantee you that if you sit back and let the story steer, you'll end up having the ride of your life._

_7\. Always and forever, I will gladly take ALL feedbacks and criticisms you feel inclined to give. I believe that one can only be continually sharpened by allowing their blade to be ground._

_**Thank you so very much for your support, love and energy - have an amazing adventure!**_


	2. Chapter 1

For Matt

* * *

**jab·ber·wock·y**

ˈjabərˌwäkē/

_noun_

invented or meaningless; nonsense.

* * *

_"One day, you'll ask me to speak of a truth,of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer my child, a sacred and perishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite, your protector, and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys, a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart, and in that moment you will be blessed, and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or what keep us painfully, desperately, apart."_

_Dana Scully  
__"Trust No 1"_

* * *

CHAPTER 1  
St. Paul, OR

The walls that had held their secrets, hopes and fears were now painfully bare and exposed, just as her heart felt as she took one last look over her shoulder at her now empty home. She chided herself, feeling much like Lot's wife from the ancient scriptures she faithfully read as a child, a woman who, despite the promise of prosperity and safety, still glanced back to see the life she had built crumble under the flames of Truth. She was relieved her hesitant, lingering gaze hadn't cast her into a pillar of salt, though she still felt the destructive consequences of her final glance deep in her soul.

She had begged, pleaded to move away from the darkness that never ceased to consume them, hoping those now barren walls would help her to forget the inevitable. Even if just for a single, solitary moment, she silently wished for the stereotypical happy ending she had been repeatedly denied. Yet, there was nothing happy left to see - her most sacred hope had come to a crushing, dark reality.

She tried - by God, did she try - to see the beauty amongst the thorns. She had pretended, putting on the costume and performing the role so expertly that even she forgot she was merely acting. A void that was filled for a moment now empty once more; her hope trapped in a tiny concrete hell.

As her eyes filled with tears of every imaginable emotion, she felt his gentle touch on her arm. Still gazing at the lifeless walls, she allowed a smile to warm across her face. At least she had her perfect opposite.

"You ready?" she heard him whisper gently; she knew he must have been close, but didn't move to see.

"Yes," she said after a moment of silence.

It was time to set her hope free.

* * *

February 13, 2012  
Hoboken, NJ

Cara English didn't sleep the night before, the churning in her stomach keeping her awake with dread and worry. She had been back in New Jersey for three days now after leaving Salem Hospital with Dana Scully's medical permission. The flight home was lonely and long, her thoughts consumed with Will Van De Kamp as she ignored the overly-friendly businessman who had the seat next to her. Perhaps the scowl on her face was signal to him enough, or maybe it was her growled snap of, "I'm not interested" at his meager attempts to strike up a conversation - whatever the case, she had gotten her message across, getting to watch the clouds float by out of the tiny airplane window in undisturbed silence.

She was dreading returning to work today, though she wasn't actually due to return until the following week. Cara didn't do well "resting" - she wasn't very good at illness or recovery. There was far too much time to think when one was debilitated, and thinking was the last thing she needed to do right now. She needed to work, to find answers.

As she buttoned her uniform shirt, her fingers slowly moving downward, she glanced at the clock. 6:23 a.m. She wasn't due for her shift at the station until 7:00 and lived close, but had a funny, unexplainable feeling that she should get there earlier. _Woman's intuition, _Will would have called it. It was about the only supernatural thing he believed in before the last couple of weeks.

Cara sighed as she picked up the lonely key sitting on her entryway table. The rental car set lacked the charm of her old keys, her car long gone, abandoned in Oregon then ransacked by the local police. She groaned, thinking of the prospect of car shopping - price haggling, negotiations and stacks of paperwork weren't something she wanted to delve into at the present. No, the complementary rental would do for now. She smiled, remembering how Will's palm smashed her car's window, and prayed the rental's insurance plan had good coverage.

* * *

When she arrived at the station by 6:42 a.m., she was relieved to see many of the people she knew would attack her with questions about Will going postal weren't there yet. One of the ones absent, though, was Cindy, who usually brewed the disgustingly strong coffee that kept the station moving. Tossing her personal belongings in a drawer of the desk she shared with Will, she paused, picking up a small stone that had been sitting innocently inside of it. She fingered it, remembering when she had picked it up during one of their investigations and tossed it at Will in annoyance over a theory he had constructed. She never realized he kept it, forgetting about the brief moment shared between friends until now. Feeling the smoothness of the dark stone, Cara laughed to herself, realizing the irony of the memory. In jest, she had tried to silence him with stone, which in reality was all that really could silence him.

Cara pocketed the stone, making her way to the coffee pot and dumping the leftover grounds from inside in the wastebasket next to the table. As she carefully measured the coffee from the Chock Full Of Nuts can she held, she heard a voice behind her and instantly filled with dread.

"Cara! Welcome back!" came Officer James Igby's hesitant greeting. Cara turned, forcing a smile on her face as she acknowledged the young, rather insipid-looking officer.

"Thanks, Iggs," she said softly, quickly turning back to the grounds.

"How are you holding up?" Igby continued.

Cara winced. It was the one question she didn't want to answer, yet knew it was the only question people would be asking her all day. "I'm fine," she said, the conviction in her voice obviously forced.

"I mean …" Igby said slowly behind her, "... Who would have thought Will, right?" Cara gritted her teeth, feeling her blood boil at the insinuation. _Will is innocent, you ass! _she snapped in her mind. However, she knew what price Will had paid to allow her the freedom to help him, so she remained silent, her focus still on the coffee, which she now had lost track of the amount of scoops she added to the filter. "I mean, Will was … he just seemed so together." When Igby saw Cara wasn't interested in responding, he nodded, backing down. "Anyway, good to have you back."

"Thanks, Iggs," Cara repeated, her heart crushed at how Will was now viewed by his colleagues.

"Cara!"

Hearing Cindy's voice, Cara turned. "Hi, Cindy," she said to the station's administrative assistant, who hung up her coat on the hook behind her bullet-proof glass-surrounded desk. "I thought I'd help you out."

"Oh my God, Cara," Cindy said, rushing to her and touching her arm sympathetically. "I'm so happy you're alright!"

Another forced smile spread across Cara's face and left nearly as quickly as it came. "I'm fine," she said with a sigh, knowing it would be the most popular phrase of the morning.

Cindy's short, curly blonde hair bounced as she removed her scarf and continued. "I was shocked!" she whispered. "Who would've thought-"

"Will, I know," Cara snapped, catching herself after it had rolled out of her mouth. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just tired."

"It's okay," Cindy replied, seemingly unaffected by Cara's shortness. "I just can't imagine what you went through."

Taking a section of her cheek inside of her mouth, Cara clamped down on it with her teeth, allowing the pain to stop her from lashing out on the middle-aged admin. "I'm fine," she said, shoving the filter basket into the pot and flicking on the switch.

Before Cindy could say anything else, Cara brushed by her, feeling her heart race as she held back her emotions. She wanted to jump on top of the desk she and Will shared and scream to the now filling-up bullpen that Will was innocent, that he was valiant and brave, and had saved her from sure death, giving up everything for her. She wanted to cry, to smash something and punch someone in the face, or perhaps all three at once. She even considered shooting a couple rounds into the ceiling just to warn everyone to stay away from her. Instead, she moved toward her desk, silent as she continued to chomp down on the inside flesh of her cheek.

"Cara!"

"I'M FINE!" she yelled, turning around to the voice behind her, her cover of coolness blown. A stunned officer looked back at her, his mouth open as he held a case file in his hands. Cara shut her eyes, her head drooping submissively. "Sorry, Rich," she mumbled, looking up at her colleague.

"You sure about that?" Rich said, stepping closer to her. "You shouldn't be here, Cara." His voice was gentle, protective.

"I can't be anywhere else," she replied softly, a bit of the rawness she felt being exposed. Trying to change the subject, she glanced down at the file Rich held. "What've you got?"

Rich hesitated, trying to find more words of guidance, but stopping himself as he realized Cara wasn't interested in them. "The Riggs case," he said, handing her the file.

"Daniel Riggs?" Cara asked, stunned as she took the file quickly.

Rich nodded. "The guy you and Will were investigating before … he …" His voice trailed off, uncertain how to word the rest of the sentence.

Cara lifted up the notes, refreshing herself with the file. "What happened?" she asked, wanting to know more about the developments.

"They found a body this morning," Rich said, watching Cara's surprised reaction.

Cara bolted for Cindy's desk to requisition a squad car. Whether the case was designed to draw Will out in the open or not, she knew in her heart there was something significant to be found to exonerate him. She set the file down, grabbing the standard form and hastily began to fill it out.

"I'll take that," came a low voice next to her, a man's hand swiping the file off of the desk.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Cara shouted, facing the man who had taken her file. She didn't recognize him; he was tall, nearly six foot she figured, with creamy brown skin and beautifully vibrant blue eyes that were set off by his curly, black hair and the bits of dark hair on his face in the form of a slightly overgrown goatee. His large, fit frame was dressed in civilian clothing, a leather jacket over a tee shirt matched with dark denim pants. The glint of the gold shield on his leather belt was nothing compared to his natural magnetism - to say the least, he was stunning, though Cara wasn't the least bit interested.

"You must be Cara," he said with a grin, as if he had been expecting a fight but was amused by it rather than intimidated.

"English," she replied, her voice darkened. "I prefer Officer English."

The man laughed softly. "Alright ... English," he said, cocking his head to the side. "Thanks for filling out the rec-form for me."

As he turned to leave, still holding the case file, Cara grabbed his arm, pulling him to face her again and grabbed the file, which they now both held. "That's my case! Who the hell are you?"

The man licked his lips quickly and absentmindedly, enjoying the challenge Cara presented him. "Detective Brody Wesson, NYPD," he said with a little bow to mock her. "Now if you'll excuse me, Cara, I've got work to do."

"It's English," Cara growled, angry he insisted on calling her by her first name. "And you're not going anywhere with that file."

"Look," Wesson said, leaning in to her, "I know you've been gone a little while, so I'll cut you some slack." He pulled his arm out of her grasp. "I've taken over Van De Kamp's caseload."

"Like hell," Cara replied, still holding on to the file.

"You should be grateful," Wesson continued smoothly. "I covered your ass while you were trampsing around the country."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Cara sneered, her blood boiling as Wesson ripped the file from her hands.

"Officer English!" Cara's eyes fell on Chief Veltre, who was standing in his office doorway. "In my office," he said. "You too, Detective," he added, nodding to Wesson.

"Showtime," Wesson said softly, taking full possession of the file and turning away, walking toward the Chief's office confidently.

Cara's mouth hung open, baffled by Wesson's arrogance and cockiness. She inhaled sharply, charging toward the Chief's office in disgust. She burst through the doorway, slamming her hands on the Chief's desk. "This is my case!" she shouted, loudly and boldly enough that the milling outside of the office in the bullpen came to a momentary halt.

"Detective Wesson," the Chief said slowly, glaring up at Cara. "Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?" Cara's heart stopped for a minute, realizing how her antics weren't going in her favor at the moment.

Wesson smiled. "Yes, sir," he said cooly, leaving the office and shutting the door.

"Officer English," the Chief growled after Wesson left the room, standing up, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't suspend your ass right now."

"Sir," Cara said, still willing to fight for the lead, "this is my case. Will and I had it first and-"

"Does my authority not mean anything to you?" the Chief yelled, cutting Cara off.

Cara swallowed. "I need this case," she said softly, searching his eyes.

"Detective Wesson is on loan from the NYPD," the Chief continued, not affected by Cara. "He's covered the caseload you shared with Van De Kamp in your absence."

"I need this case!" Cara repeated. She didn't know if it was the desperation in her voice or the glassiness of her eyes that redirected the Chief's anger, but she was slightly relieved as she saw his face relax a little, his palms still flat on the desk in front of him.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice softening a little around the edges.

"I can handle it, sir," Cara replied, straightening her shoulders slightly for emphasis.

The Chief was silent as he looked at Cara; he knew she wasn't ready to be back, but also wasn't able to be home. "Why is this case so important to you?" he asked. "It's nearly closed."

"It just is, sir," she replied softly, chewing briefly on her bottom lip as the waver in her voice threatened to expose her emotions.

Another long moment of silence passed, the Chief still searching Cara's eyes. "What happened … with you and Will …" He inhaled, feeling limited in his ability to act as a psychologist. "... What happened was tragic." Cara gritted her teeth, keeping the truth deep inside. "I need to know that your head is in the game."

"I can assure you, sir, it is."

The Chief eyed her, finally closing his eyes with a sigh. "You have the lead," he said, but quickly added seeing Cara's happy reaction, "but Wesson is with you."

Cara shook her head slightly. "Sir, I don't need-"

"That's the deal, Cara," the Chief said firmly, pressing himself to stand up straight. "Take it or leave it."

"Sir-"

"English," the Chief interrupted sharply, "either take it or turn in your badge. Am I clear?"

Cara's jaw tightened as she stared at the Chief. "Crystal, sir," she said firmly, her emphasis on "sir" perhaps a little too sharp.

"Get in here, Wesson," the Chief yelled, his eyes still fixed on Cara. Wesson opened the door, his gaze falling on the tense scene in front of him. "Close the door," the Chief ordered, and Wesson complied. "Detective," he said, finally moving his eyes to the man in front of him, "Officer English will be taking the lead on the Riggs case. You'll accompany her and help her with the investigation. You will take her direction with regards to process. Understood?"

Cara didn't have to look at Wesson to feel the icy daggers he shot at her from behind. "Yes, sir," she heard him say slowly, feeling his cold stare on her back.

"Dismissed," the Chief said, sitting in his chair.

Cara was the first to leave, snatching the file from Wesson's hands as she pushed past him out of the office. Her eyes were fixed ahead to Cindy's desk, quickly scribbling her signature on the requisition form she had filled out when she got there.

"Where are you going, Cara?" she heard Wesson ask behind her, catching up to her.

Cara spun around, facing Wesson as she snatched the squad car keys from Cindy. "English," she corrected firmly. "And I'm going to investigate," she added coolly, turning to leave.

Wesson grabbed her arm. "Hey, I'm with you, remember?"

"Sorry," Cara said, "I forgot to add your name to the form." She pulled her arm away from him, still facing off with him. "Find your own ride."

Before he could reply, she charged past him toward the station exit. His eyes narrowed as he watched her leave, feeling his anger build inside of him. They had said she would be tough, but he hadn't expected this much resistance.

"Pain in my ass," he muttered, rushing after her out of the station.

* * *

ADX Florence  
Colorado

Will had no idea what time it was. In the two weeks he spent at ADX in solitary confinement, each day had blended into the next, the two meals he received through the bolted slot on the door the only indicator of morning and night. Yet, even with this daily reminder, the passage of time was still slow and confusing.

His cell still smelled like vomit from the day he arrived, when he had wretched at the memory of Cara's torture. Without anyone to clean it up, Will was left to his own demise to handle the duty with the tiny bit of toilet paper he could spare. Supplies such as toilet paper and soap were strictly given out on a bi-weekly basis, so he had to make sure it would last. Tried as he might, he was still unable to rid the air of the stench, and he surrendered himself to it, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

The food was tasteless and little. For principle, he had starved himself the first two days, convinced the bounty hunter would somehow add magnetite to his main courses in attempts to kill him. After 46 hours of no food and smelling his own puke on the concrete floor, Will caved and ate the stale-bread sandwich he was given that evening. His only relief was the single hour each day he was allowed to leave the cell, forced to sit alone in what was called the "swimming pool" - a vast, empty concrete hole with a cage around it. He didn't care. It was fresh air - beautiful, clean life-giving oxygen. The few times it rained, he still went out, allowing himself to be completely drenched for an hour in gloriously pure rain water.

The cell wore on him, which he knew to expect. Solitary confinement was the ultimate form of punishment to the mind; he was left alone with only his thoughts to keep him company. Not even a radio or a magazine to pass the time, since he was new - he hadn't earned the privilege yet. Good, bad or indifferent, his thoughts were all that he had. That, and the concrete that surrounded him.

He knew the bounty hunter was there, watching him. It sickened him as he sat in silence, thinking of what the alien might have up his sleeve to deliver. His chest tightened, wondering whether Cara was safe on her own, or if his parents were able to protect themselves. The thought of his isolation possibly meaning vulnerability for those he loved was enough to send his mind into overdrive, trying to ignore the fear that was building up inside of him as he paced around his cell for hours on end.

When it all became too much, he would sit and touch his lips, reminding himself of the kiss he and Cara shared before it all went to hell. He would often close his eyes and picture her, choosing to remember her face unblemished yet flushed with desire, the dark waves of her hair spilled around her head like a halo as it rested on the motel pillow. He often felt guilty for the times when his body reacted physically to the thoughts he would have of her, condemning himself for feeling the pleasure of the memory. The love he had for her, though, was the only thing he clung to as his fears kept creeping further into his reality, threatening to take away all sanity he had for good.

"Van De Kamp."

Will picked up his head as he sat in the corner of his concrete slab bed, leaning against the wall and looking toward the door with curiosity at the stern voice calling his name from the other side. "Armed guards in," he heard the man say, knowing very well the protocol was to warn inmates of their arrival as a reminder not to attempt an escape.

The door opened forcefully, and Will saw four armed guards with loaded assault rifles aimed at his head, his tee shirt rumpled and his navy blue prison uniform bottoms dirty from lack of clean clothes to change into. Clothes, too, were a precious commodity, and he wasn't due for a new set until two more days. He sat motionless, watching the two guards who stepped inside his cell. "A message," the guard who spoke outside the door said, tossing an envelope down on his concrete desk. The guard looked down, seeing the dried remnants of Will's vomit under his feet. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, taking a step back and glaring at Will, who remained silent and still. "A little queasy, princess?" the guard mocked, his laughter joined quickly by the three others.

Seeing Will wasn't taunted by his words, the guard stepped closer to him. "Get up," he ordered, the scowl on his face growing larger in annoyance. Will stood slowly, his white laceless sneakers hitting the floor with purpose as he stared at the guard, who stepped even closer. "How does solitary feel, you bastard?" the guard asked, his voice low. "You should be sick. Killing people … that makes you just like everyone else here. But you … you like to kidnap and beat women as you drain their blood." The guard saw Will's jaw flex at the challenging accusation. "I hope you burn in hell, you scumbag."

It took every fiber of Will's being to control the surge of complete and utter rage that threatened to escape him, forcing himself to remain silent and still, his fists shaking at his sides as a result. The images of Cara's battered face flashed into his mind, and he clenched his teeth together as he pressed down the violent reaction he wanted to unleash on the taunting guard. His breathing quickened, the air flowing in and out of his flared nostrils as he fought the retaliation he wished to exact on the man in front of him, knowing he could easily take out all four with a single flick of his wrist. Will swallowed hard as the guard spit at his feet, his eyes never leaving the man as his hands shook beside him.

Will closed his eyes in relief as the steel door slammed shut, his body still frozen in the same place, tense and shaking. He was grateful he hadn't let go, or else he would never be granted the pardon that John Doggett and Monica Reyes had continually promised they would get for him. After a moment of trying to relax, Will's eyes fell onto the crisp white envelope that sat on the desk. He moved toward it, running his finger inside the flap to tear it open. With urgency, he pulled out the sheet of paper, hoping and praying to see Cara's name at the bottom. Instead, it was a printed copy of a scheduled visit, the people he would see Doggett and Reyes in two days. He closed his eyes, sighing as he let the disappointment of still not hearing from Cara after two weeks sink in. It was selfish, he thought. She most likely was still ill and not able to write. It's what he told himself at least, deciding to trust that she hadn't forgotten, that she still cared.

It was all that kept him from falling deeper into the pit of fear, hearing it snicker in his mind as it suggested otherwise.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2  
Sinatra Drive  
Hoboken River

Cara threw the squad car in park, shutting off the flashing lights that bought her the freedom to speed away from the station. Her last glimpse of Detective Wesson was him watching her from the parking lot, holding the keys to a sleek, black SUV as she pulled away. She knew he wouldn't know where to go immediately and would most likely have to finesse someone in the bullpen for the information. _Iggs will cave, _she thought with a frown, wondering how the young officer ever was able to be sworn in, being so soft.

She pushed the door shut as she exited the car, taking in the group of officers and forensic team that had beat her to the punch through her dark aviator sunglasses. The cold, winter air whipped off of the river, sending a chill down her spine as she felt it brush the tiny bit of her neck exposed under the bun she wore her hair in that day. She adjusted her uniform coat, feeling the weight of her gun and other items on her duty belt as she made her way to the edge of the shore.

"Cara, there you are," a fellow officer said as she approached. "I was beginning to think Wesson was replacing both of you."

The glare Cara shot the officer was concealed by her sunglasses, but her voice betrayed the secret. "Will isn't being replaced," she said sharply.

"Well," the officer said with an eyebrow arched, "usually when you're in supermax, there's no climbing back up the ladder."

Her eyes narrowed at him, again concealed by her sunglasses. "Where's Doc?" she asked harshly.

"Over here, Caraline."

Cara turned, seeing the older medical examiner crouched over the body of Daniel Riggs. She pushed past the officer who had been speaking to her, channeling her focus on the case to deal with her rising anger at the thought of Will forever being absent from the department - and from her life. She knew it was a possibility, but she couldn't handle considering it - and she didn't know if she would ever be able to.

"Caraline," the medical examiner nicknamed Doc greeted her with a smile. "Welcome back."

"Thanks, Doc," she replied with a small smile. She squatted down near the body that was now encased in a body bag. "What did you find so far?"

"Cause of death seems to be asphyxiation," Doc reported. "There are marks on the victims neck that resemble two large hands. A strong male, I'd imagine."

"Think there's a chance we could pull prints?"

"After his swim in the Hudson, I doubt it."

Cara frowned. "How long has he been dead?"

"Looks to be about 12 to 16 hours, though the effects of the freezing water could make it appear longer than it actually is." Doc sighed. "We won't know for sure without an autopsy."

Still squatting, Cara looked toward Doc. "Next of kin?"

"Not my department, Caraline," the medical examiner gently reminded her.

"I know," Cara said with a sigh. "I'd just rather not work with those idiots right now."

Doc studied Cara's face carefully, seeing the pain in her blank expression. "What _really_ happened out there, Caraline?" he asked softly.

Cara didn't immediately push him away; she let his words linger in the silence between them. Doc had been a sort of father figure to her when she was first sworn into the department, his gentle guidance helping her to flourish successfully alongside Will. Not many women were as highly regarded in the district as she was, and she had always attributed her best strengths to Doc and her paternal connection to him.

"Too much," Cara said quietly, her gaze drifting to the Hudson River in front of her.

"Caraline," Doc began, his hand resting on her knee, "you will need to talk at some point."

He was the only person in the world that could ever get away with calling her by her full name, one which she hadn't liked for as long as she could remember. Probably because at the time, she heard stories of how she was named after her father's mother, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

"I'm fine, Doc," she finally said, her focus shifting back to the body bag. She slipped on a pair of gloves, unzipping the bag as she took in the water-logged body that laid inside. Her eyes shifted from the man's face down to his neck, where she pushed aside the lapels of his suit jacket, catching a glimpse of the bruising Doc had mentioned earlier. She continued to study the body, her eyes catching a peculiar mark that was partially concealed by the ripped neck of the man's shirt. She gingerly opened the unbuttoned shirt, her lips parting as she saw a distinct scar that matched the healing one on her own chest from the exsanguination line that had been inserted there. Overcome with curiosity, she opened the man's shirt fully, finding another similar mark on his stomach. "Doc, did you take note of these?" she asked, still focused on the marks she observed.

"We recorded them as puncture wounds, either by knife or syringe. We won't have any conclusive evidence until we run a toxicology."

A flash of haunting memories sprung into her mind, seeing her blood leave her body through the tubes in her mind's eye. She hadn't realized, but she shivered as she recalled the way the bounty hunter had lifted her easily off the floor, her neck still bearing the residual bruises from his hands that she concealed with her uniform-issued turtleneck.

The sound of car tires pushing quickly to a halt on the nearby road shoulder disrupted her nightmare, and she blinked as she focused on the marks on Daniel Riggs' body. She shut her eyes as she stood, hearing his voice behind her as he approached the scene.

"Cara!"

"Damnit, Detective, for the last time, it's English!"

She spun around, her glare more than evident at Wesson though she wore aviators. He, in his own sunglasses, eyed her, his leather jacket zipped fully, the collar popped to deter the chill of the winter air. "I'm not playing games," he said angrily, his hands on his hips. "So unless you want a formal complaint on your record, I suggest you introduce some cooperation into your attitude."

"Don't you dare scold me like a child," Cara challenged, stepping forward. "You've done nothing so far to earn my respect."

Wesson closed the gap. "Too bad you're not a man, because I have a feeling this won't get settled civilly."

"Are you scared?" Cara asked with a smile.

"Scared of a local PD officer who is five years out?" Wesson laughed; Cara knew he was older than her, but she wasn't sure how much. He had to be at least ten years her senior; the promotion of detective wasn't something earned overnight. "I'm only scared that you're in over your head."

"I'm not in the mood to have a pissing contest," Cara snapped, turning away from Wesson. "Doc, I need a full work up on the body. You have my permission to start in six hours if we don't hear anything back from next of kin. And I want the results delivered to me first."

As Cara turned to leave, her eyes fell on a largely shielded protrusion in the rock across the street from them, overgrown pines and evergreen bushes concealing what looked to be an opening. Glancing up, she knew the area belong to Stevens Institute of Technology; it seemed to be an underground passageway that bore directly into the campus above it. She shrugged away a chill as she remembered vaguely the similar cave Will had carried her out of before it was blown to pieces to hide the truth she now so desperately sought to prove existed. She glanced for cars coming in either direction, then moved quickly across the road, interested in what secrets might lie behind the leaves.

"Where the hell is she going?" Wesson grumbled, watching Cara pull aside some bushes. He followed her to the site, his hands falling on his hips as he watched her wrestle the vegetation aside. "What are you doing?" he asked. Seeing she didn't react to his question, he sighed. His mouth opened when Cara finally exposed an opening, tossing aside the brush she had cleared away to get a better look. "What is that?" Wesson asked, taking a step closer.

"I think it's Sybil's Cave," Cara said softly, her pulse quickening from her discovery. Pulling her flashlight from her duty belt, Cara clicked it on, shining the light in the underground tunnel in front of them.

"What is Sybil's Cave?" Wesson asked. He grabbed her arm suddenly when he realized she was going inside. "Whoa! Where are you going?"

"Let go of me," Cara demanded, shaking his hand off of her arm. She stepped into the cave, examining its walls with her flashlight intently.

"How do you know that shit won't just collapse on top of you?" Wesson argued, his intentions pure in his attempt to deter Cara from entering.

"Guess I'll find out," Cara replied, going in further as she studied the cave. "You coming?" she asked, turning around to look back at Wesson as she removed her sunglasses. "Or is it over your head?"

Wesson ripped his sunglasses off his face, entering the cave behind Cara with a small smile she didn't see as she led the way, genuinely admiring her tenacity.

* * *

William's Apartment  
Adams St., Hoboken

He knew no one was watching, but he still took a glance over his shoulder, imagining one of _them _might be there, ready to stupidly confront him for what he was. Mere beings constructed of weak flesh and blood, though there was some interesting potential in the later, given the right one. The right one being the one who got away, who left them no choice but to destroy the work they had done, their replication efforts put to a halt by the one man who was suppose to be taken care of years ago. Hence, the reason he was now here.

He had heard the man's parents were planning to occupy the apartment once they arrived, which was in an hour. With a quick flick of his wrist, he opened the locked apartment door, peering inside at the dull studio apartment. _Pathetic, _he thought, observing the bare white walls and the few pieces of essential furniture that he figured had come to the resident free or second-hand. It was a less than inviting space, but he knew the man who lived there had done much to keep to himself, his apartment a natural extension of his lifestyle as a recluse.

He knew the man who lived here had nothing of value to him besides the message that would be sent with what he was about to do. Taking out a small flask from his jacket pocket, he unscrewed the lid slowly, allowing the clear liquid inside to spill haphazardly on the floor in a trail following his path. As he reached the bedroom area, his eyes fell on a photograph that sat in a plain frame on the end table next to the bed. He smiled and picked it up, examining the two figures inside of it carefully. The man he ignored, his focus strictly on the woman next to him in the picture; two people posing for the camera after being sworn in together. With a grin, he cracked glass of the frame, removing the picture from inside and tucking it into his pocket.

He continued to leave a trail of liquid behind him, his gloved hand reaching inside his pant pocket for a small box of matches. He had no concern for who else might be there in the building - he had no feelings to consider. His actions were the consequence of the man's interference - the man who lived here, alone, was to blame.

Replacing the flask in his breast pocket, he lit the stick match, watching the flame rise for a moment before he tossed it on the floor toward the liquid path, smiling in satisfaction as he felt the heat from the bursting flames behind him as he walked away.

* * *

Sybil's Cave

As they stepped further into darkness, the light from Cara's flashlight became increasingly vital, the thick, brown rock around them absorbing the natural light shining in from the entrance. "I don't get it," Wesson said, keeping a close pace behind Cara. "What is this place?"

"From what I remember," Cara answered, "it's where a spring was found in the 1800s. It's been closed for a long time." She stopped, examining the rock wall in front of her, noticing the forced left turn. "They reopened it in oh-eight, but I guess it never got traction as a landmark like the city hoped."

"So we're here on a field trip?" Wesson said, stopping. Cara turned to him, shining the flashlight at his face. Wesson grimaced, blocking the light from his eyes with his hand.

"I know why I'm here, but I don't personally care if you're here or not."

"And why are you here, Cara?"

With a sigh, Cara chose to forgo correcting Wesson for the umpteenth time that day regarding her name preference, as far as he was concerned. "None of your business," she replied, turning toward the curve in the path of the cave.

She frowned when she felt Wesson grab her arm. "I think it is," he said cooly, holding onto her and staring into her eyes as best he could considering the darkened atmosphere.

Cara pulled her arm away from the detective. "I disagree," she snapped. "I also think if you ever touch me again, I'll shoot you and claim self-defense."

Wesson watched Cara leave; he could help but laugh to himself at her fierceness. "You've got a lot of anger, English," he said, beginning to follow her.

Cara ignored his statement, her focus on the rock ahead. _Come on, _she thought desperately. _Just let there be something here. _She was consumed with her desire to exonerate Will to the point of what might seem like madness to others, her actions erratic to those without the knowledge of the hell she and Will went through only weeks ago. As if an answer to her desperate prayers, she stopped when her boot kicked something forward into the darkness. Her heart stopped, her eyes wide as she crouched down, focusing the light onto the ground.

Wesson nearly crashed into her, Cara's sudden stop catching him by surprise. "Damn," he mumbled, regaining his footing. "Warn somebody next time." He watched her as she curiously slipped on her leather glove, reaching for something on the ground. "What is it?" he asked, trying to see in the darkness. _Note to self, _he thought, _get a flashlight._

"A bone," Cara whispered, fingering the specimen. She remained close to the ground, twisting the fragment in her hands as she examined it.

"Probably an animal bone."

"Probably," she said, brushing him off with her voice.

The piercing ring of Wesson's cell phone rang through the cave, surprising him. "Shit," he mumbled, so caught up in Cara's fascination that the phone call scared him for a moment. He grabbed his phone, putting it up against his ear. "Wesson. … Yeah we're on Sinatra. … Alright, we'll be down in five. 10-4." He hung up, seeing Cara had now stood, her back still to him. "Come on," Wesson said, "we've got a 10-70 on Adams Street."

Cara spun around, her eyes wide in horror. "Oh my God," she whispered, shoving the bone in her pocket and fleeing past Wesson for the exit of the cave.

"Hey, English!" Wesson yelled, "Slow down!" By the time he exited the cave, his delay from the darkness around him inside of it, she was already speeding off in the squad car she drove to the scene, her lights and sirens blaring as she barrelled out onto the road.

* * *

She was a frantic mess by the time she reached Adams Street. She didn't need to know where the fire was located - she already knew it was Will's apartment that had been torched. _By who? _she thought as she madly rushed passed the caution tape, nearly barreling into a fire fighter. "Whoa!" the fire fighter exclaimed, steadying Cara after their collision. "You need to step back, officer."

Cara swallowed as she watched the enraged flames lick their way up the sides of the historic building that had been converted into apartments. Adams Street wasn't exactly the cream of the apartment crop in the city - Cara had only been to Will's apartment once, since he mostly came over her brighter one in a safer neighborhood. She watched in sadness as she saw the fire consume everything Will had, knowing whoever did this was sending him a message of their disapproval. A warning, a threat that now couldn't help to prove Will's innocence, seeing as he pled guilty weeks ago.

She watched in horror as the firefighters worked bravely, carrying victims of burns and smoke-inhalation from the wreckage, knowing casualties were imminent as the bodies removed were few. _Maybe most people are at work, _she thought hopefully, feeling herself gasp when she caught sight of the lifeless body of a toddler girl being carried from the building, the girl's mother screaming in horror on the sidelines. Cara shut her eyes, feeling faint as she turned to leave the scene. She hadn't realized in her emotional haze that she slammed right into Wesson until she felt his warm grip on her upper arms. "English," he said, his voice soft. She stared ahead at his leather jacket-covered chest in a daze. "Hey, English. You okay?"

Fighting the tears that wanted to form, Cara looked up into Wesson's blue eyes, and for a moment, she found herself lost in the warmth and genuineness of them. She felt his large hands still holding her, his touch tender in concern. "I'm fine," she stammered, pulling away from him and heading toward her squad car.

* * *

Newark Airport

"Mulder."

It was a habit he couldn't seem to break, his days spent as an agent rewiring his brain to be incapable of answering the phone any other way. He would occasionally spice things up by substituting "Yeah", but for the most part he stuck with his moniker.

"It's Cara," he heard her say in a rushed pace. "They burnt Will's apartment down, and there were casualties, and-"

"Slow down," Fox Mulder said, pressing his phone closer to his ear. "Who burnt it down?"

"Who do you think?" Cara said, flustered as she drove her squad car to the station.

"What motive would they have for doing that?" Mulder asked, his luggage wheeling behind him in one hand as Dana Scully followed alongside of him, toting hers.

"A message, probably," Cara hypothesized.

"To let him know he got in the way," Mulder mumbled. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Cara grumbled, hating those two words more than ever in that moment.

"Listen, we will get another place."

"Are you sure? You can stay at my apartment."

"Not necessary," Mulder interrupted. "We're in it for the long haul, so I doubt you'll want us hanging around twenty-four-seven."

"Misery loves company," Cara muttered, now turning into the station and parking the car. "Hey, listen. Can I give you guys some homework?"

"Sure, what've you got?"

"Sybil's Cave off of Sinatra Drive. You won't be able to get into it now, seeing as it's a crime scene, but I'd appreciate the hand at some research on it."

"The cave is a crime scene?"

"Not exactly," Cara corrected. "The guy Will and I were investigating for his disappearance reappeared this morning on the Hudson River shore across from it, complete with marks on his chest like mine. Probably from exsanguination lines. I'm having them complete an autopsy in six hours if I don't hear anything sooner from next of kin."

"Scully will do that," Mulder said, his volunteering her being returned with an arched eyebrow of hers. "Don't let the local coroner touch the body."

"She doesn't have the credentials-"

"So get them," Mulder said impatiently. "If we release this body, they'll bury whatever it is they're hiding."

"I trust my med-ex," Cara said firmly.

"I don't doubt you do, but we can't be sure of anyone at this point."

Cara sighed - he was right. "So you think this is a lead?"

"I think it could be." Mulder paused. "So why are you interested in the cave?"

Cara lifted the bone fragment from her jacket pocket, examining it as she held her phone to her ear, sitting in the parked squad car. "Just call it a hunch."

"Woman's intuition?"

She froze at his choice of words. "Something like that." She abruptly hung up the phone when she heard a knock on the driver's side window. She rolled her eyes as Wesson stared back at her, raising his eyebrows.

"Who were you talking to?" Wesson asked as Cara stepped out of the car.

"None of your business."

"English," Wesson growled, grabbing her arm. When she tried to pull away in anger, he clamped down on her, fiercely holding her still. "I said no games. Who were you talking to?"

"A friend," Cara said stiffly, trying to yank her arm out of Wesson's grasp. "Two strikes," she warned.

"I don't know what you're up to, English, but I don't like it." Wesson's tone startled her, but she didn't allow it to show on her face.

"I'm not up to anything," she snarled back, again failing to free her arm from his grasp.

"Then what are you doing?" he challenged.

"Trying to find the truth," Cara said darkly, finally able to pull away from Wesson as she blew past him into the station.

* * *

"I said," Wesson shouted as he angrily entered the bullpen, glaring down at Cara, "whose truth?"

The activity in the bullpen froze, a noticeable silence thick in the air as the two officers battled. "The victim's," Cara snapped, turning to face him.

"Are you sure about that?" Wesson said, stepping toward her.

"I don't give a shit if you doubt my methods or not!" Cara yelled. "I'm the lead. You-" She poked his chest for emphasis before she stormed to her desk. "-you follow."

As the storm died down enough to allow those around them to be somewhat comfortable, the buzz from the others around them slowly returned, though Cara felt their eyes trying to catch quick, curious glances at her corner of their world. She tore off her jacket, tossing it onto the desk. Her head hanging down, she saw Wesson's hands plant themselves firmly on the desk in front of her, his built frame leaning in to her as he spoke. "I'm getting you off this case, English," Wesson said with a growl, his voice low to keep it between them. "You're not fit for duty."

"I'm … FINE," Cara said slowly, her voice low with darkness as she lifted her head.

She stared at Wesson, her eyes intensely searching his. They were frozen in a figurative face-off, each breathing hard as their mutual feeling of anger reached its individual boiling points.

Wesson took a long look at Cara's face - she was an attractive woman with radiant, creamy white skin and rich brown hair that offset her bright blue eyes, though he had assumed some of their natural sparkled was dulled by her recent past. She was the kind of woman that would have no problems with the opposite sex, he, himself, momentarily falling victim to her beauty. He felt himself slowly falling into her magnetic fierceness, only challenged by his rage for her stubbornness and the cold exterior she showed him. It was then that he noticed the concealer she had blended into her skin around her right eye; she was masking more than just her physical pain from the events that occurred with her former partner.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Wesson said, his tone surprisingly soft, even to him. He was more surprised when she didn't come back at him with a cold quip, angry at himself for lustfully noticing the fullness of her lips as they parted.

She blinked a few times, unable to find any words that weren't guttural screams of sadness over Will. She knew she wasn't ready to come back, and she knew Wesson saw straight through her, though she hadn't been too good at concealing the truth from the get go. As she looked carefully at Wesson, she found herself instead seeing Will's pained face before he was punched in the jaw as he screamed her name, being shoved into the back of a squad car.

"English," Wesson said softly, seeing her eyes becoming glassy. "Go home."

"No."

"Go home. That's why I'm here."

"No," she repeated firmly. Cara took out the fragment from her pocket with a tissue, leaving Wesson standing at her desk as she left for the forensics department.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

ADX Florence

It felt extremely uncomfortable to write to Cara while having assault rifles pointed at his head, the guards afraid he would turn the pen he was loaned into a weapon. His every move was being watched, and Will shut his eyes, trying to focus on putting his chaotic thoughts onto paper.

The blank page stared back at him accusingly, seemingly mocking him for his cowardice. He swallowed, not sure where to start or what to say. He dare not tell her what ADX was really like, and the standard "How are you" seemed too trivial. He wasn't even sure how to address her - "Cara" or "Dear Cara" or "To the love of my life" or "To the woman who has forgotten about me" were all viable options at the present. Will hated how the isolation left him weakened by doubt and fear, and he dropped his head, still unable to write anything.

"Two minutes," the guard directly behind him snapped impatiently. Will gazed back at the page, committing to his choice of writing one of her favorite quotes carefully on the sheet:

"_By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it.  
__The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired._"

He carefully read the lines he quoted from Franz Kafka, then added his own below it:

_You are with me every waking moment.  
__I continue to create you with each breath I take,  
__waiting to feel you in my arms once again._

He didn't sign it; he was too emotional to remember to. It was quite possibly the sappiest, most poetic thing he ever wrote, not entirely sure where the choice of words came from, as they weren't natural to him. He folded the paper, putting it inside the envelope and addressed it to Cara's apartment. As he felt himself be roughly pulled away from the desk and shoved backward into the area of his bed, Will assumed his two minutes were up.

Will watched as the guard took the envelope, doubtful if the letter would ever make it to the mail. He lifted his arms, feeling the guards roughly pat him down to check that he hadn't stowed anything during his privilege. His eyebrow arched as he saw the guard reading who he was sending it to. "No name, lover boy?" he asked, waving the envelope at Will. "I can find out myself with the address, I guess. Maybe pay her a visit while you're here." The guard laughed as he saw Will's angered reaction to his statement. He remained motionless, praying his power would stay under control as he was silent through the guard's incessant taunting. "All the way in New Jersey … hmm …" The guard leaned into Will, the smile on his face making Will sick. "I'm due for a vacation. Maybe I'll see if she'd like to come."

He had no doubt in his mind that these guards felt far superior to him and the inmates he now lived with, the dark realities of the evil that surrounded them at work only being combated by their constant reminders of their elevated sense of worth to the world. Will knew the taunting fed into the punishment, too, and that it probably was a runaway train that the guards couldn't escape if they tried. He wasn't sure why he was finding any amount of empathy for the mocking men in front of him, the idea of Cara being vulnerable in any way making his blood boil. He couldn't help himself, though, from reading their thoughts whenever he came in contact with them, knowing that it at least was partially a defense against the manifestation of evils they encountered. However, the majority of it was a manifestation of the guards' own evils, and it was that which scared him.

Will was relieved that he was able to wait just long enough for the guards to leave before his fist collided with the concrete beside him, leaving a large blood-stained impression in the rock.

* * *

Coroner's Office  
Hoboken PD  
8:12 PM

She wasn't sure how Cara managed to get her into the station given her complete lack of jurisdiction, but Scully was happy to be able to examine the body of Daniel Riggs without interruption, at least until ten that evening. She had much work to do, and she sighed as she snapped on a pair of blue gloves, the feeling all too familiar of trying to decipher the darkness into a neatly wrapped package, which more often that not wasn't the way it happened.

Mulder had said he would go catch up with Cara and share his discoveries on the Cave. She wasn't quite sure what had peaked Cara's interest about the landmark, but chose to trust her gut. Cara reminded her so much of a young Mulder, determined and not easily dissuaded. Will, however, had her trait of doubt, which she had hoped he wouldn't. Doubt was a hard thing to overcome, and she prayed he wasn't subcumming to its power as he sat inside of his cell of hellish isolation as she drug the scalpel across the corpse's chest in a Y-incision.

* * *

5th Street  
Hoboken  
8:47 PM

Cara usually had a ritual when her shift ended, not ever straying far from it. Lock the door, keys on the hook, gun on the end table and uniform hung. Tonight, she had forgotten the routine after hanging her keys on the hook, staring out into the city through the large window in the living room of her apartment. It was still dark in her home as she stood in silence, for the first time knowing what her father must have gone through, his nightmare concealed for protection as Jim Bean assisted in dulling the pain. If she had the energy to think of it, she would've brought Jim home tonight for herself, but she figured her autopilot mode made her coast by the liquor store in an attempt to bring her safely home.

As she stood there, wondering if all the charades of protecting Will's secret innocence were really even necessary, she heard a gentle knock on the door. Drawing her gun, she carefully stepped to the door, the house still encased in darkness. She shut her eyes as she saw the face on the other side of the peep hole, and unchained her door, letting Mulder in.

"Glad you made it alright," Cara managed, her gun still drawn at her side.

Mulder looked down at it, then up at her. "Everything alright?" he asked softly.

Cara nodded as she watched Mulder shut the door, his long fingers repositioning the chain. "Just tired," she replied as Mulder turned to her.

"Expecting someone else?" Mulder asked, nodding to Cara's weapon.

"Guess you never know," she replied, tucking her gun into its holster.

Mulder wasn't convinced. "Someone threatening you?" he asked, stepping toward her.

"No, just annoying me," she replied, flicking on a light in the room.

"Who?"

"Does it matter?"

"I don't know, does it?"

"Alright, cut the psychology bullshit," Cara nearly shouted.

"Then tell me," Mulder said sternly.

"I'm not a child. And you're not _my _parent."

Cara instantly regretted her choice of words the moment it left her mouth, but her pride chose to avoid an apology. Mulder put his hands on his hips, looking intently at Cara. "No, I'm not," he said, his voice steady and firm. "But we are on the same team, aren't we?"

Mulder caught Cara's eyes searching his, and saw her nod. "Yeah," she mumbled, unclipping her holster and tossing it on the end table. "Sorry, all I have is coffee, milk and water," she said, turning her back to him in an attempt to flee the discomfort of the atmosphere.

"Coffee is great," Mulder said, watching Cara unbutton and remove her uniform shirt that she wore over the police-issued logo turtleneck. With expert speed, Cara brewed a pot of coffee, turning to Mulder who had followed her into the kitchen while she waited for it to perk.

"Detective Brody Wesson," she finally said with a defeated look.

"Who's he?" Mulder asked.

"The asshole I was ready to shoot."

Mulder's eyebrow arched. "Is he the lead on the Riggs case?"

"No," Cara corrected. "I am. Chief Veltre has him on loan from the NYPD to help handle Will's …" Her voice trailed off, the addition of "caseload" barely audible as she fought the emotion.

He watched as Cara played with the bun of hair on her head, releasing the waves that were long enough to skim her chest. "I found some interesting information on Sybil's Cave," Mulder said, sitting at the counter on the stool under it. "Mind sharing what initially peaked your interest?"

"I found a bone fragment," Cara said, unsure whether she was irritated with Mulder or relieved he was finally here.

"What kind of bone?"

"It looked like a piece of a tibia."

"Hmm."

"'Hmm' what?"

"Check this out." Mulder took out a packet of crumpled papers from his pocket, sliding them over to Cara on the counter.

"What is it?"

"You young people with your technology ..." Mulder mumbled, "_Read_ it."

Cara rolled her eyes as she set the cup of coffee she poured down in front of Mulder. She raised the half-gallon of skim milk she had taken out of the fridge, and he waved her off. "Black," he said, and he caught her pause for a minute, probably thinking of how Will took his coffee the same way.

"Edgar Allen Poe?" With her question, Cara had basically asked Mulder if he was crazy. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What? I hear we are very alike, you and I. We enjoy entertaining the possibilities otherwise thought extreme or unlikely by others."

"Maybe when I have the luxury to," Cara replied. "But I don't right now."

"On the contrary," Mulder interrupted, "now is the perfect time to entertain a few unusual theories." He sipped his coffee, gesturing to the packet he had given her. "Read, grasshopper."

Cara pursed her lips, peering down at the packet. She began to read aloud, hoping that it would annoy Mulder to make him cut to the chase. "The Case of Mary Rogers," she quoted, seeing Mulder grin. "Mary Rogers?" she said, interrupting herself.

"Shh. Read."

Cara sighed and quoted the article:

"'Mary Rogers was probably born in 1820 in Lyme, Connecticut, though her birth records have not survived.'" Cara stopped. "Hold on a second. Did you get this crap from Wikipedia?" she asked, noticing the URL at the bottom of the paper she held.

"Wikipedia is a great resource, for the people and by the people. Truly American." Mulder waved her on. "Continue."

Cara began again with resistance. "'Mary Rogers was a beautiful woman who grew up as the only child of her widowed mother. At the age of twenty, Mary lived in the boarding house that was run by her mother, although it was her amazing beauty that made her the talk of the neighborhood. Her father died in a steamboat explosion when she was 17 years old and she took a job as a clerk in a tobacco shop owned by John Anderson in New York City. Anderson paid her a generous wage in part because her physical attractiveness brought in many customers.'" Mulder couldn't help but grin as he saw Cara's disgusted face in response to the sexist information as she opened a bag of multigrain dipping chips, walking to the fridge paper in hand as she continued to read.

'On October 5, 1838, the _New York Sun _reported that 'Miss Mary Cecilia Rogers' had disappeared from her home. Her mother, Phoebe, said she found a suicide note which the local coroner analyzed and said revealed a 'fixed and unalterable determination to destroy herself.' The next day, however, the _Times_ and _Commercial Intelligence_ reported that the disappearance was a hoax and that Rogers only went to visit a friend in Brooklyn. _The Sun_ had previously published a story known as the _Great Moon Hoax_ during 1835, causing controversy. Some suggested this return was actually the hoax, evidenced by Rogers's failure to return to work immediately. When she finally resumed working at the tobacco shop, one newspaper suggested the whole event was a publicity stunt managed by Anderson.'"

Cara paused, opening the salsa she retrieved from her fridge, knowing it and the chips would serve as dinner for her. "What's the 'Great Moon Hoax'?" she asked.

"A series of articles written about the discovery of life and civilization on the moon," Mulder replied through crunching his chips. "See page 4."

Reluctantly, Cara flipped to the fourth page, seeing a copy of an old lithograph depicting winged creatures that appeared to be both human and bat flying in a large group over a river, a gorge surrounding them. Mulder saw Cara's hesitation, knowing she had connected the same dots he had to the gorge they nearly didn't escape just weeks before.

Dismissing the irrational connection in her mind, Cara continued. "'On July 25, 1841, Rogers told her fiancé Daniel Payne that she would be visiting her aunt and other family members. Three days later, on July 28, police found her corpse floating in the Hudson River in Hoboken, New Jersey. Referred to as the 'Beautiful Cigar Girl', the mystery of her death was sensationalized by newspapers and received national attention. The details of the case suggested she was murdered, or dumped by abortionist Madame Restell after a failed procedure. Months later, the inquest still ongoing, her fiancé was found dead by suicide. By his side, a remorseful note and an empty bottle of poison were found. Her fiancé was Daniel Payne. He was full of grief after Mary's death. On October 7, 1841 Payne went to multiple taverns and drank excessively. Eventually, he stopped at a store and bought a bottle of the poison laudanum. He stopped by where Mary's body was found and went on to write his note, 'To the World – here I am on the very spot. May God forgive me for my misspent life.' He drank the poison then staggered off to drink some more. Before he died he made his way back to where Mary was found and died on a nearby bench.

'During November 1842, Frederica Loss came forward and swore that Rogers' death was the result of a failed abortion attempt. Police refused to believe her story and the case remained unsolved. Interest in the story waned nine weeks later when the press began publicizing a different, unrelated murder, that of John C. Colt murdering Samuel Adams. Sybil's Cave became a popular tourist attraction, people clamoring to see the site where her body was discovered.'"

Cara tossed the packet back at Mulder, dipping a chip in the jar of salsa and eating it without a response. Mulder waited, looking at her with an anticipatory smile, only to be met with a look of disdain. "Really?" she asked. "This is what you give me? There's one reference to the cave, and it just says how it became a tourist attraction after a tragic murder."

Mulder leaned back, the smile still on his face. He enjoyed the way Cara did battle with him, understanding why Will was so drawn to her. She didn't give him an inch, even if she did have belief, and he respected that about her. "Are you ready for my interpretation?" he asked, taking a chip and crunching on it.

Cara sipped her coffee. "Guess so. I don't have any other plans."

"Good."

"So how does this connect to Daniel Riggs, or Sybil's Cave for that matter?"

"How it connects," Mulder explained, "is that nothing is ever quite as it seems."

Cara stared blankly at Mulder. "You mean to tell me, you just had me waste well over ten minutes reading about a murder from the 1800s, using a Wikipedia article as supporting evidence, just to tell me that things are not always as they seem?"

"Was it really that useless?" Mulder asked, baffled slightly at her lack of appreciation.

"Mulder," Cara said, getting angry, "I've got a dead body with marks that match mine, which came from a shape-shifting alien bounty hunter who tried to extract all of my blood so they could replicate the engineered technology inside of me that my father conspired with the government to create, all to protect your son, who was born with miraculous powers and aged so he could be prepared to battle the alien colonists in December of THIS YEAR … and you want to banter about things not being as they seem?"

Mulder couldn't help but smile, which aggravated Cara even further. "How can you sit there and distract yourself with complete and utter bullshit when your son deserves your full and undivided …" Cara stopped, pausing as she finished her thought in her head. "... attention," she said softly, swallowing at the connection she made to Mulder's exercise she just completed. "So that's what this is all about?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "You think I'm too blinded by the case, that my work will be sloppy, all because-"

"Because you're too close to this, Cara," Mulder said very gently, leaning forward. His face was serious as he looked at her. "The bone fragment you found … why do you think you found it?"

"Because I looked."

"Because you wanted to," Mulder corrected. "And Riggs' marks?"

"They're there!"

"All of these obvious signs - evidence just waiting to be discovered, mysterious marks that are exactly like yours …" Mulder stood. "Did it ever occur to you that Daniel Riggs would be too old to be a Shield, if we're trusting your father was correct when he said he used children, including you?"

Cara was frozen; she didn't know what to say. She was guilty - guilty of running around blindly for truth, all for the sake of freeing Will, which wouldn't actually help him.

"All of this is a part of their game, Cara," Mulder continued, coming around the counter to stand directly in front of her. "All of this, manifested because of your love for William which is being used against you." She sighed, turning away from Mulder as she realized how blind she had been. "None of this will help him," he whispered. "Or you."

Mulder gently took Cara's chin with his fingers, tilting her face to meet his. "William isn't the only one in isolation. At some point, you have to understand that to help him, you need to help yourself." He saw her eyes welling with tears, and he pulled her into his arms. He sighed in relief as he felt her accept his embrace, though he silently worried she wasn't yet ready to face her fears head on.

After a few moments, she pulled away, quickly wiping a few tears from her face, embarrassed. Mulder caught her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Jabberwocky," she whispered.

Mulder's eyebrows creased together. "Jabberwocky?"

Cara nodded, wiping another tear that escaped. "Invented and meaningless nonsense." She knew he still didn't fully understand, but she didn't need him to. Whoever was out to kill her and Will knew far too much for her comfort, using what had become sacred and exclusively between them against them. They were trying to throw her off course, and she couldn't even imagine what they were doing to Will, probably shaking the foundation of his sanity until he cracked.

Even though she knew she had possibly been misled, she wasn't ready to give up fighting and fully confront her deep hidden fears of Will never being exonerated, put to death for the sins of beings controlled by pure evil. She had to be smarter, quicker, faster - she couldn't afford to fall prey to their games. Yet, she couldn't fully see her weakness, her heart straining as she told herself it was time to press forward, to help him by scoping everything. _Don't miss a thing. His life depends on your full, undivided attention. Now's not a time to feel. _

"I need to find something for him. Anything," she breathed.

Mulder sighed, knowing he hadn't fully gotten through to her. He was trying to help her see that she needed to step away, to let people help, to allow anything besides anger and fear inside. She needed to think, she needed to feel. She needed to allow herself the opportunity to face what she kept buried inside, all of her darkest nightmares needed to be brought out to the light so they couldn't have power over her anymore, so that the Colonists who were trying to control the two most powerful beings on earth wouldn't be able to.

Yet, she was running too fast, her head filled with everything they wanted it to be. They had control over her, so long as she allowed them to. She was a pawn in their game, playing right into their hand without even knowing it.

"Excuse me," Cara said suddenly, her eyes shut as she gripped the counter behind her. Mulder saw she felt sick in her sudden paleness, and watched in concern as she turned quickly to the bathroom. He all too well understood the feeling she must have had in that moment, and his eyes followed her, a certain sadness filling him that came from possessing unheeded, rejected advice. He had walked her path before, and it killed him to see her making the same mistakes he once had.

He silently prayed Will wasn't making the same mistakes, too.

* * *

Comfort Suites, Hoboken  
10:17 p.m.

It was a couple hours later, and Mulder had returned to the hotel room he and Scully shared, feeling completely drained after trying to get through to Cara. He didn't even glance up at Scully as she entered the room quietly, seeing the look on his face that she always dreaded seeing. "What happened?" he asked as she tossed her purse onto the chair next to the door.

"Absolutely nothing," Scully replied, folding her arms over her chest. "Cause of death was asphyxiation. Nothing out of the ordinary. The marks weren't consistent with the ones I treated Cara for. And there was no quantifiable blood loss."

"How can she not see it, Scully?" Mulder asked softly, still staring ahead at the television, which was lowered in volume almost to mute.

Scully sat down beside him. "There were plenty of times when we didn't see it, either."

"We _had _time to learn, though. She doesn't."

"Mulder," Scully took his hand gently, watching him shut his eyes and lean his head back against the headboard behind him, "William trusts her, so we have to now, too."

"Trust no one, remember, Scully?"

"Not even our own son?"

Mulder sighed. "She's vulnerable, Scully. So is he."

"And we haven't been before?"

"This is different."

"How? How is this different?"

Mulder lifted his head and looked into Scully's eyes. "Because the whole damn universe is relying on them to get their shit together."

Scully wasn't sure if it was the combination of the long flight and the rushed autopsy, not to mention the emotional stress she felt, but she couldn't help but crack a smile at Mulder's impatient tone. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "We have to have faith, Mulder," she said gently.

She heard a sigh mixed with a groan resonate deep inside his throat as he pulled her beside him. She listened to the comforting sound of his heart beat as she lay her head on his chest, allowing herself to be surrounded by his scent and warmth. "You know what I have faith in?" she heard him say softly after a long moment of silence.

"What, Mulder?"

"You."


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

February 14, 2012  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington D.C.  
8:54 a.m.

Monica Reyes adjusted the dark-framed glasses that rested on the bridge of her nose as she peered at the computer screen in front of her. She and John Doggett had been working tirelessly to not only find a top-notch lawyer to represent Will, but to build a case for them to be able to take full custody of him. Currently, he was in general Federal custody, and no one seemed to want to deal with a supermax inmate who had been charged with second-degree murder and kidnapping coupled with aggravated assault, not to mention the multiple counts of arson, theft, battery, disorderly conduct and even a charge of rape insisted upon by the police department that initially took Will into custody after they demanded the results of Scully's physical exam of Cara during her treatment in the hospital.

They were happy no one wanted to deal with Will, but also very skeptical, since breaking a case of this magnitude would be quite the significant plume in the cap of an FBI agent. Doggett had concluded that people were scared - while the case certainly would look good for a victorious agent who would be able to prove Will guilty, the case would be detrimental to an agent's reputation should he be exonerated. Will had gained so much national attention that Reyes felt like she and Doggett were walking on a tightrope over a mine field, a single misstep causing everything to go wrong.

The media, for the most part, seemed against Will, his picture plastered on CNN and MSNBC hourly with a host of questions being asked by famous news anchors while even more famous people weighed in: Is the legal system secure enough? Can a mentally-unstable man actually be found guilty? Is he really mentally-unstable, or is it a coverup? And what about the woman in Oregon who claimed he had powers beyond "natural ability"? Why would a young cop, sworn to protect others with his life, suddenly crack while experiencing a progressively rising career? Why won't Cara English speak to the media about the horrific events? Does she fear for her life? What or who is to blame?

Reyes was thankful for her good relationship with the people in the press office, grateful they managed to keep most hungry news anchors and journalists away from the nitty-gritty of the investigation. She wasn't sure, however, if they would have the same good fortune to avoid the ravenous reporters once they arrived at ADX the next day. She and Doggett agreed to fly in that night, trying to use the natural cloak of darkness to cover their arrival. Being it was her last chance to gather as much as she could for Will's benefit before meeting with him, she had arrived at the office at 6:00 a.m., hoping to cover more ground than she actually did by nearly three hours later.

The main issue with trying to find evidence of Will's innocence was the lack of evidence to the contrary. Will had firmly stated he wouldn't allow Cara, his father or mother to testify on his behalf, though they had completed written testimonies as well as agreed to verbal ones. Having Cara's testimony would probably be the most significant piece to their defense, though Reyes knew whoever was prosecuting the case would savagely rip the truth apart to support the media's biased view. And Will's resistance to letting her take the stand wasn't helping things in his favor.

Reyes and Doggett knew that Cara was attempting to collect evidence while in Hoboken. She had texted them already that morning saying she was going to the hospital as well as the Terminal to review the security footage captured in each location. That left her and Doggett, as well as Mulder and Scully unofficially, to prove what had yet been failed to be proven - that the Colonists were among the people, and that their presence in positions of power was an intentional farce that would eventually hurt the people who trusted them - that they, alone, were to blame for Will's actions.

It would be hard, too, to prove that Will hadn't been flying off the handle several times during that week in January. There were plenty of people, they were sure, that could and possibly would testify to Will drawing his weapon at Cara in a psychotic rage in the Terminal. It would be up to Cara to find proof that they were, in fact, set up.

With so many things working against them at this point, Doggett and Reyes were counting on Will to keep his cool, to not lose himself to the darkness that lingered in his mind. Will needed to be a saint in the eyes of the penitentiary, a perfect model inmate that could be moved to a lesser facility as a reward, showing the public he was, in fact, a reforming citizen.

When Reyes had presented the possibility that Will's best defense might be to plead insanity, Doggett fought it. It was what the Colonists wanted - they wanted Will to be locked away, sedated in a cell with no key. He had to be exonerated. He had to receive a pardon. Otherwise, Will would die from the darkness consuming him.

"Hey," Doggett said quietly, seeing Reyes' intense stare at some archived files she was sorting through on the screen in front of her.

"Hi," she managed, her sigh of disappointment at their progress evident.

"I got Darryl Walker," Doggett said, taking Reyes' shoulder in his hand gently. He nodded as she turned to him, surprised and relieved.

"Oh thank God," Reyes whispered. She knew with the aid of one of the best lawyers in D.C., a man well-respected by his peers, their odds were getting slightly better.

"It took a bit of finessing," Doggett continued, "but I think he came to see the benefit of his involvement."

Reyes frowned. "Did you beat him up?"

Doggett grinned. "No, but I did give him a very handsome cash bonus up front for his commitment."

Reyes chewed her bottom lip. "John, how much?" When he didn't answer, she knew the amount. "Your entire pension," she breathed, stunned.

"Not the entire thing," he corrected. "Just the one from being a cop." He sighed, knowing her accusingly stare meant she knew he wasn't being fully honest. "And half of my military one."

There was nothing Reyes could say. She couldn't yell at Doggett for wanting to help Will, because if she had the means as he, she would have done the same thing. She was scared, though, at the prospect. So much Doggett had worked for - serving his country, his life on the line - now given to a lawyer who drove a Rolls-Royce to defend a man who seemed impossible to defend.

"Hey," Doggett said, breaking the silence. "Can't take it with you, right?" His attempt at a smile made Reyes smile, knowing the man she called both partner and lover was doing the right thing.

"That's true," she said softly, turning back to the computer. She stared at the screen, pulling her glasses off of her face. "John, do you think William can hold on?"

Doggett knew what she meant - was Will able to wrestle and win against the darkness for as long as it took them to free him?

"I hope so," he replied, feeling unsure as he remembered Will's crazed state with Cara's presence. He was afraid of what Will would be like without it.

* * *

Hoboken PD  
9:08 a.m.

Cara rubbed her temples, staring down at the report that sat neatly on her desk. She was fairly confident that she had been frozen in the same position for nearly twenty minutes, overwhelmed with anger and confusion as she read, and re-read, Scully's findings from the night before.

What would be the point of killing a man and making it seem like he had undergone the same torture she had? What was the purpose of such a misdirection? Was it to make her work look sloppy, rushed, all so she would be pulled off the case? Was there a deeper hidden truth behind Daniel Riggs' disappearance - and now death - than what was visible to the eye?

She didn't have to move to hear him approaching, feeling her entire body tense as she heard his booted-gait come closer to her. "Shit," she heard him say as he took off his coat. "The Holland was backed up all the way to Midtown. Six mile drive just took an hour."

Seeing her lack of response, Wesson glanced down at the file that was opened in front of her. "Is that the autopsy?" he asked, sitting down across from her.

"Yep." Cara's voice was soft.

"... And?"

"And he was strangled to death. The end."

Wesson's brow wrinkled. "What about motive?"

"The motive was probably to piss me off," she grumbled.

"Excuse me?"

Cara stood abruptly. "Look, I waited for your ass for an hour. I've got leads I need to follow up on." She made eye contact with him when he followed suit, standing up just after her. "You coming or not?"

"What leads? I already interviewed the witnesses from the Terminal, next of kin-"

"It needs to be done again."

"Why?"

"It just does." Cara glared at Wesson.

"English-"

"I need …" Cara inhaled deeply, trying to start the day better than she had the one before. She had been grossly wrong not only about Riggs' cause of death, but about the fragment she found, which turned out to be a bone from a large dog. "I need to review security footage at the Terminal and the Hospital."

"Which, if you read my report, I already did." Wesson crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, I like to watch movies myself," she retorted. "I find the reviews tend to lack a critical understanding of back stories."

"Damnit, English!" Wesson said, charging around the desk and facing her. "You know something," he said softly; she felt his breath dance over her face as he spoke lowly. "What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Then who are you protecting?" Wesson pressed. "Look, you don't work as a cop for 15 years and not learn how to separate the bull from the shit." Cara realized as he closed the gap that not only was she trapped against the wall with the cube divider and desk blocking her possible escape, but that Wesson's aftershave smelled almost identical to Will's. "Who is it?"

"Why would I tell _you_ anything?" Cara snapped back, her voice struggling to remain soft to keep their conversation private.

"Because _I'm_ suppose to trust _you,_" he replied.

Cara was ready to sling verbal mud into Wesson's face when she paused, searching his eyes as he stared down at her. Initially, when she first saw him, his eyes had captivated her in a way she hadn't expected or understood. It was as if she had seen those eyes somewhere once before, the depth of them seeming to trigger light into a darkened corner of her memories.

She felt her heart stop, unable to look away from his intense stare. She tried to fight it; she tried not to look, but couldn't move her eyes from his.

"I'm reviewing the hospital tapes again," she said firmly after the long pause between them. "With or without you."

Wesson realized he, too, was finding himself regretfully captivated by Cara's intensity, the lines of professionalism around him getting blurrier by the minute. "I'll go with you," he replied.

As he stepped aside to let her pass, Wesson shut his eyes, hating himself for the self-destructive path he was choosing to take by allowing himself to fall for her so easily.

* * *

ADX Florence

Will's eyes opened suddenly as he lay curled in the fetal position on his concrete slab bed, his heart racing with sudden fear that seemed to strike him out of nowhere. He bolted up, the flimsy piece of foam they passed off to him as a pillow knocked to the floor as he shot up onto his feet.

His breathing was ragged; his eyes frantically searched the concrete blocks around him, his eyes eventually falling on the unassuming manilla envelope that lay near his cell door, which had been slipped through the food slot.

He licked his dry lips as he approached the envelope, slowly lifting it off of the floor and examining it. No return address - nothing at all written on it. The contents were light, and there was something familiar about it that he couldn't place in his isolation-induced haze.

Holding his breath, he opened the envelope carefully, the large pouch containing only one small document. Will reached inside, withdrawing the item, and the envelope dropped to the floor as he took in its contents.

It was the picture he kept of him and Cara, right after they had been sworn in together, each dressed with pomp and circumstance in their uniforms as they posed for the camera. Neither of them had any close relatives to invite to the big occasion, so they chose to pin each other's badges on during the celebration. It was one of his proudest moments, being chosen out of hundreds alongside his best friend to serve together on the force.

Except, the picture Will now held was ripped, his image not included in the envelope. It was merely Cara, a small smile on her face, her then blonde hair tucked neatly into an intricately braided bun. Her blue eyes were radiant, so gloriously radiant, and he felt his heart stop as he glanced down at her lips, remembering the kiss they last shared.

His hands began to shake, realizing what was familiar about the envelope and its contents was its scent. The ripped photograph he held had been saturated in her perfume. _Coco Mademoiselle. _Will had once teased her about the girlyness of her signature scent's name, receiving a rather tomboy punch to the arm in response from Cara.

His breathing quickened when he saw the torn edge of the photograph had been dipped in blood, the dark hue still present after drying against the lightness of the photo's backdrop. This wasn't a token sent by the woman he loved, but rather a horrible reminder of her vulnerability and his inability to protect her.

Feeling something on the back of the picture, he quickly flipped it over, seeing a small block of printed text taped to it. He began to panic as he let the words sink in:

**_Beware the Jabberwock_**  
**_The jaws that bite, the claws that catch_**

And just like that, there were voices; voices filled with darkness that raged in his head as his anger surged beyond comprehension. He breathed heavily, pacing his cell against the sounds that were so clear to him, yet untraceable to anyone else.

"Where are you?!" he yelled, realizing it was the first time he had spoken in over two weeks. His voice was hoarse and cracked, and he immediately felt thirsty after he screamed. "Where are you?!"

His hands ran over the concrete walls as his pacing grew more frantic, his pulse rapid and his brow beginning to glisten from sweat. "WHERE, DAMNIT?!" he screamed, staring up at the ceiling above him. "WHERE ARE YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH?!"

His fists began to collide with the concrete walls that seemed to cave in on him, his screaming incoherent and raw. As he heard more voices join the ones that were already so apparent in his mind, his screams became louder, the blood from his torn hands soaking into the wall as he violently tried to break through. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Van De Kamp! Armed guards in!"

The steel door opened quickly, and Will turned to the six guards outside of his room who now rushed in. "On the floor!" they ordered, aiming their rifles at him. Will stood, panting as the blood dripped from the wall beside him. "ON THE FLOOR!" the guards yelled, the butt of one of the guards rifles crashing into Will's knees with force, dropping him down to the floor.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" Will screamed, the voices filling his head too much to bear. His face was smashed against the concrete floor as two guards worked quickly to restrain him. "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

Neither of the two officers expected it as Will easily flung them off of his body, his rage and paranoia uncontrollable as he continued to yell, clutching the photograph in his fist as he tried to bolt for the door. The four other guards charged him, beating Will relentlessly with their rifles as they tried to pin him down. The two officers who had first been knocked away with force by Will tackled him with the others, and all six fought against Will's incomprehensible strength as he screamed under them.

More guards fled to the aid of the six, and a prison medic behind them. "Give him haloperidol!" the lead guard yelled as he and the others attempted to keep Will down on the floor, pounding him on his back with their rifles to bring him into submission.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" Will kept screaming, his rage keeping him from feeling most of the brutal force the guards were inflicting on him. His body shook as he tried to press against the now eight men holding him down, and he growled as his arm was held down to administer the sedatives. Will's primal rage climaxed as two needles pushed through his skin, dumping the double dose of haloperidol deep into his system. It took every ounce of strength for the eight men over Will to hold him down, feeling Will continue to press upward against them. "YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU! YOU HEAR ME?! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!" Will began to taste his own blood as it ran down his face from the gash in his head, his attempts to fight for escape slowly weakening as the sedatives took effect.

Once Will was motionless under the guards, they quickly pulled him up and slammed him into the concrete wall, strapping several chains on his wrists and ankles for the trip to the infirmary as his face was scraped against the stone.

"Holy shit," one of the guards said as they drew Will away from the wall - it was covered in bright red blood, multiple impressions the size of a fist pushed through the solid concrete easily six inches deep. The guard looked first at Will's face and saw it was now virtually free of any cuts or scrapes, only the lingering blood with no origination point. They all looked down at Will's hands - they expected his hands to be broken, disfigured, or maybe even snapped in half after what they saw done to the concrete wall. Yet, Will's hands were almost completely unblemished, the skin only a little red on his knuckles. The rest of the guards looked from the wall to Will, baffled at what they beheld in front of them as Will's head drooped under the power of the sedatives.

"What the fuck?" one of the guards said, grabbing Will's hand and twisting it sharply to see if the flesh was torn. It wasn't.

"That's pure concrete," another said, his voice soft.

"Jesus."

"How the hell …"

They looked at Will, who slowly looked at them, the sedatives sinking deeper into his body with every breath he took.

"Come on," the lead guard barked after the moment of confused silence, "get this son of a bitch out of here."

The guards who had possession of Will shoved him forward, slamming a rifle into his back as he moaned in anguish. As Will's heart-rate lowered, he began to feel the pain in his back from the rifle beating he just underwent, though he dare not admit aloud that it was quickly dissipating due to his natural ability to heal.

As Will passed by him, the lead guard snatched the photo of Cara out of Will's hand and took a quick look at it. "You make me sick," the guard sneered, realizing the photo was of the woman he was accused of not only kidnapping and almost killing, but raping as well. "Happy Valentine's Day, lover boy," he said, tossing it aside as he pushed Will forward.

Will tried to pull against his chains and captors, screaming in rage over losing the only piece of sanity he had left, the image of Cara dropping to the floor behind him. As he quickly felt two more needles push deep into his skin, the voices inside of his head erupted in maniacal laughter at his defeat, and he surrendered to the darkness through his tears.

* * *

University Medical  
Security Office

Cara and Wesson had been reviewing security footage from all angles of that fateful day when Will was first admitted, their eyes tired from the constant rewind and replay of the same pixellated black and white footage. About two hours in, Wesson volunteered to get coffee for them, grateful when Cara waved him off. He needed a break, and not just from the film.

His head spun in circles as he silently thought about his partner of just a day and a half in his mind. He yelled at himself, feeling like a complete love-sick fool that needed to jump off of a bridge for how idiotically attracted to her he felt. He knew in the back of his mind that in reality, it wasn't his fault, but he still couldn't help but feel completely inappropriate.

When he returned to the office, Cara was in the exact spot he left her, the same blank stare fixed on her face as she replayed the day's footage, cross-referencing the different cameras in attempts to catch something he hadn't when he initially did this during her absence. He carefully placed the coffee down in front of her, seeing she didn't flinch, completely engrossed in her task or at least in something other than drinking coffee.

Cara, too, had beaten herself up mentally for the extra long gaze she took into Wesson's eyes earlier in the station. She had no feelings of attraction to him, but didn't want him to think otherwise by sending mixed signals. Tried as she might, she couldn't pinpoint why Wesson's eyes had affected her so much. She knew it might have something to do with the Shield Project, and though she didn't want to confront the hidden memories in her mind, she was quickly running out of other viable options. Could he have some connection to the Project that either he was hiding or completely unaware of?

The thought of him betraying her by being a bounty hunter sent a vivid chill up her spine, and she immediately thought of a test to relieve some of her fears. Turning to Wesson, she swallowed, handing him a stack of tapes. "Here," she said softly, "these can be cataloged."

As Wesson took ahold of them, his fingers brushed over a sharp point sticking out in between the tapes. "Careful," he said suddenly, both of them now holding the stack. "There's some kind of metal in the stack." Wesson carefully removed the sharpened, stretched out paper clip that Cara had fashioned while he was getting coffee, hoping to see a drop of red on the finger prick she intended to occur. She just needed to know if he bled real blood, and not the deadly green acid of the Colonists.

Cara growled in the silence of her mind at Wesson's observative nature, chiding herself for not trying harder. _If Will didn't leave my knife in the cave in Oregon, I'd just stab him to test, _she thought.

It was the sincerity of his eyes, though, that had spoken to Cara's heart, not wanting to believe that those eyes she remembered from her past belonged to someone evil, but rather, someone good. Still, he couldn't be trusted. She had no reason to trust him.

Cara ignored her coffee, her overwhelming sense of self-defense not allowing her to risk enjoying it for fear of it being drugged or poisoned. She didn't know whether Wesson picked up on this detail or not, but she tried to play it off, pulling her phone out of her pocket when she felt it vibrate from an incoming text.

**Made an appointment with Dr. Werber in DC for regressive hypnosis for tonight at 7.**

It was Mulder and his ever-tactful ways of calling shots over her he had no right calling.

**Were you planning on asking me if I wanted to go through with it? **Cara angrily texted back.

It didn't take more than thirty seconds for her phone to start ringing. Wesson looked up from the footage he was watching to Cara, who quickly stepped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"You agreed to this in Oregon!" Mulder yelled back.

"I know I did," Cara seethed quietly, trying to keep her conversation concealed from Wesson. "Damnit, Mulder! You can't just schedule me for invasive hypnosis without my consent!"

"You said it yourself, the key is in the Project-"

"And it is," Cara interrupted, "but at least give me the courtesy of a head's up before you decide to let someone dissect my brain!"

Mulder was silent for a moment. "Sorry." His voice was flat, emotionless.

Cara sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't do seven," she said softly. "My shift is until eight and if I try to leave hours early last minute in the middle of a case to get to DC, I'm pretty sure I'll have company."

"Ditch him."

"Not an option."

"Is he attached at the hip?"

"I'm fairly certain he's an implant, and I need to play the game for right now."

"What?!"

"Look, I've got to go."

"The hell you do."

"Mulder-"

"You can't tell me something like that and then hang up!"

"I just did."

Cara ended the conversation, powering off her phone to solve the issue of Mulder calling back. She hastily looked over her shoulder back at the security office, seeing Wesson sipping his coffee and viewing the footage. She was afraid talking too long to Mulder would rouse suspicion in Wesson, which was the last thing she needed to do. She had an unusual sense of paranoia hanging over her since reviewing the file Scully had left for her that morning. The pieces of this gigantic puzzle seem to all fit too easily together on the surface, as Mulder had suggested to her last night before she abruptly had to vomit in the bathroom, including her eager new partner, who seemed to be trying to get on her good side for what felt like an ulterior motive.

She slipped back into the security office, tucking her phone in her pocket as she sat down in her chair. She would spend another forty-five minutes reviewing footage before realizing that, according to the video, there were no new conclusions to come to than the ones that Wesson had weeks earlier - that Will had pushed and shoved his way through to escape, only identified security guards following him. There was no mysterious bounty hunter to be found on the film, though Cara knew he was actually there, masquerading as someone else to cover his tracks. There were no prints in the room Will was held in, other than the four doctors, one of which was dead, the two security guards, and Will's. In the Terminal, there was only the unidentifiable acid burn - no evidence of a fragment, as Reyes had initially suggested, or of any foul play while she and Will were investigating. In short, every trail was colder than the winter air that whipped by her squad car as she drove silently back to the station.

Wesson hadn't attempted conversation either, lost in his own thoughts as Cara wrestled with the hardest decision she had to make in maybe her entire life. Her attempts to prove Will's innocence all crumbled in a failed heap of disappointment, nothing of the Riggs' case bringing anything to light. All she had was her sworn testimony, at that point, which Will refused to utilize. No tangible evidence of experiments, magnetite, mysterious killers or aliens - nothing to hold on to. As she drove quietly through Hoboken, she knew what had to be done, though she wasn't sure if she could do it.

She parked the car in the police station lot, glancing at the digital clock before she turned off the ignition. It was 2:32 p.m. - if she left soon, she could get down to DC for the seven o'clock appointment. "Wesson," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the steering wheel, "I'm removing myself from the case."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wesson's eyebrow raise. "Are you sure?" he asked gently.

"I'll tell Veltre," she replied, confirming her choice.

"Do you want me to-"

"No," Cara interrupted firmly. "I'd rather only have one person see my tail between my legs."

Wesson nodded. "Alright." He dare not ask her what had so dramatically changed her mind, though he thought it might have to do with rescuing her ego before it could take any more of a beating. He knew Veltre would have questioned Cara's methods during the investigation at some point, so he figured she was folding her hand to avoid further damages. Her surrender to whatever was consuming her might actually work in her favor, a review board more apt to pardon a grieving victim than a bullheaded officer who wasted time, manpower and resources.

"I'll clear my effects from the desk before I leave," she added after a moment, catching Wesson's eyebrow raise in surprise.

"You're turning in your badge?"

"The gun, too."

He solemnly watched in the passenger's seat as Cara quickly threw open the squad car door, slamming it behind her as she walked away; her head hung a little lower than normal.

"Perfect," Wesson said with satisfaction, a small smile creeping up at the corners of his mouth.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

En route to Washington D.C.

Mulder was relieved when Cara had contacted him about being able to make the appointment he had set up with Doctor Heitz Werber for seven o'clock that night. He knew that what they would discover tonight in Cara's mind would be game-changing for Will's case, but also a new revelation into the bigger truth that Mulder had spent his entire life so desperately searching for.

Scully, knowing Mulder as well as she did, knew he was far too wired to drive, so she volunteered, hoping her calming presence would put Cara at ease. As they drove down I-95 South, Scully took quick glimpses in the rearview mirror at Cara, who remained motionless as she stared out of the passenger's side window. Scully observed the paleness in Cara's face - most likely from nerves, she hypothesized, though she silently worried the cause of it was from something far worse than nervous anticipation.

Scully hadn't been too fond of Mulder's suggestion of regressive hypnosis, knowing the many times they had utilized it either on a case or personally that there were gaping holes that never were filled, the "memories" being dredged up from the sewage of the mind considered questionable in authenticity. Still, all three people in the car knew their options were increasingly limited, and the urgency to exonerate Will grew with each passing moment.

Cara hadn't mentioned to either Mulder or Scully that she had voluntarily removed herself from duty for an undetermined amount of time. Such a request going on her permanent record was sure to raise more than just a few eyebrows, and her value to the force would be questioned by a review board, who would most likely rule against her returning. Unless, of course, they were able to fully prove Will's innocence. Then, she might not seem like the crazy nut everyone thought she was turning into.

She didn't know why, but Cara's need to reveal her secret became suddenly apparent in her mind as she watched the passing scenery and traffic out of the small sedan's backseat window. "I turned in my badge and gun," she said softly, not moving her gaze.

She felt Mulder's reaction as he shifted to look back at her from the passenger's seat. "What?" he asked, baffled.

Cara caught a surprised glance from Scully in the rearview mirror as she met Mulder's eyes. "I didn't have many options left," she replied. "I was bound to get kicked off of the case - and maybe even the force - if I didn't surrender to my quote 'emotional distress.' At least it's better than _them_ telling _me_ I'm crazy - admitting your own weakness always looks better on paper."

Mulder knew she was right, but still worried over Cara's decision as he saw the sadness in her eyes. She had lost so much - Will, her father, her sense of safety, and now the job that identified her. The emptiness he saw in her as she turned her gaze back to the window pained him.

"Cara," Scully said softly, flicking on the wipers as cold winter rain began to pelt down on the windshield, "without your gun-"

"I keep my P238 current," Cara said quickly, catching Scully's eyes with her own.

"A Sig Sauer Scorpion?" Mulder said, giving Cara a small smile to try to lighten the mood. "I figured you for a Magnum Revolver."

"I don't have a need to compensate for anything," Cara joked back, allowing herself to laugh softly in the moment with Mulder and Scully.

Cara returned her gaze to the window, watching as the rain streaked across the glass. As she began wondering what Will was doing in that exact moment, a wave of intense nausea flooded her. "You okay?" Scully asked, her eyes widening as she saw Cara swallow back a dry heave.

Cara's weak nod was a lie. She pressed her head against the headrest behind her, closing her eyes and swallowing the sickness she felt as she let the rhythmic dance of the wiper blades against the rain soothe her to sleep.

* * *

A half hour or so later, when Scully was confident Cara was genuinely asleep, she took a glance at Mulder, who had his head leaned back against the seat, his gaze fixed on the wet highway in front of them. "Mulder," she said gently. "Are you asleep?"

"No," he murmured. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He didn't want to tell her the truth, that he was thinking of his cruel, torturous punishment he experienced while being held in the military compound for killing a man who couldn't be killed. He didn't want to tell her how his sanity had been tested in every possible way as men tried to beat a truth out of him that didn't exist. He didn't want to tell her of how she and William were the only things that kept him alive, and how he could truly empathize with his now grown son, who he hoped was hanging onto sanity and not letting the darkness consume him.

"Just thinking," he decided to reply, knowing the answer wasn't satisfactory to her. He was surprised when she didn't press the issue.

"Mulder," she said softly, "I … I'm worried about William."

He lifted his head, looking over at her. Though she would always remain beautiful in his mind, he knew the fears of the recent weeks took their toll physically, taking note of the darkness under her beautiful blue eyes. "I …" she was hesitant as she drove, and he knew she was struggling.

"What is it, Dana?" he said softly, his hand sliding onto her thigh in an attempt to comfort her.

"I've tried to talk to William," she whispered, swallowing back her fears. Mulder knew she meant through telepathy, which was hard for her to admit, but didn't concern himself over her lack of distinction.

"What does he say?"

"Nothing," she replied, a tear slipping down her cheek. "He doesn't say anything." She released the wheel with her right hand just long enough to push the tear away from her eyes. "The feeling I get when I try … it's like … he's given up. Like he … like he isn't who he was. Mulder …" She glanced at him, another tear escaping her eyes, "... it's like he's been swallowed alive by darkness."

Mulder's hand lifted to Scully's cheek, gently wiping her fresh tears with his thumb. "We'll get him out, Scully," he said softly.

"What if we-"

"We'll get him out," he repeated. His eyes were locked on her as she kept looking forward at the road. "We'll find a way."

"And then what, Mulder?" Scully whispered, looking over at Mulder as if to ask what could possibly be done to stop the horrors that were inevitably coming.

"And then we fight the future," Mulder replied softly, still brushing her cheek with his thumb. "Together."

* * *

Near Florence, CO

This wasn't part of the plan.

Doggett and Reyes had been notified by ADX of Will's episode of psychotic rage earlier that day shortly after they landed in at Pueblo Memorial Airport. Doggett had managed to convince the warden that an after-hours visit from him and Reyes was vital in order to assess Will, after which they headed the 39 miles toward ADX, each feeling as if every positive they once held for Will's case had dissolved under their fingertips.

Seeing it was approaching eight o'clock eastern time, Doggett took out his phone and dialed Mulder's cell as Reyes drove in steady silence.

"Yeah," Mulder said as he answered. Doggett could hear the melodic sound of wiper blades in the background, and knew that he was driving.

"Mulder, it's Doggett." Doggett sighed. He knew the best thing was to keep as much from Cara at this point, and he wasn't sure if she was present with Mulder. "Answer me in affirmatives or negatives, but nothing else, understood?"

"Yes," Mulder replied dutifully, not betraying his calm exterior with the worry that Doggett's request stirred up inside of him.

"It's for Cara's sake, and probably even Scully's."

"Okay."

"We got a call from ADX about twenty minutes ago. William has gone absolutely postal."

Mulder forced himself to keep his poker face, though he wanted to react otherwise. He knew Doggett was right in what he had decided to do - especially considering Cara, who now stirred in the backseat as Scully fought the backed up accident traffic the rain had caused, making them increasingly later for their appointment.

"We're on our way now to ADX to see him. We were able to get a pass on an after-hours visit. Mulder …" Doggett paused. "... William had to be sedated with quadruple the dose of haloperidol that it takes for a 200-pound male. He busted 12 six-inch-deep holes into the concrete walls of his cell with his fists. They said they had pictures of the cell … Anyway, the warden is demanding to know why he doesn't show any signs of injury. Guards are also claiming he tossed two men off of his back like rag dolls, dislocating one's shoulder and giving the other a concussion." Mulder swallowed, feeling it hard to not respond. "Something provoked him. They said he was holding a photograph when they first found him. They said it was of Cara." Mulder shut his eyes, tightening his jaw as he listened. "They're getting to him somehow. You've got to watch your backs, Cara's especially. They said the photo smelled like women's perfume."

"Okay," Mulder said with swallowed anger, causing Scully to glance over at him in worry as she drove.

"We're almost there, so we will call you after we meet with him."

"Okay."

Mulder hung up the phone, his eyes still shut. He knew Cara was now awake in the back seat and felt Scully's eyes burning a hole through him. "Mulder, who was that?" Scully asked, her focus divided between him and her driving.

"Doggett," Mulder said softly.

"And?"

"And he just wanted to tell me he and Reyes landed in Colorado," Mulder finished, his voice carrying a familiar firmness that Scully knew meant there was more than what he presented. She caught his eyes, recognizing the request to end the conversation for the time being in them.

"That's good," Scully said, her attention back on driving.

Cara watched Mulder and Scully carefully, knowing they had attempted to hide something from her about Will, but as a wave of dizziness passed over her at the thought, she decided not to confront them until they arrived at Dr. Werber's office and closed her eyes to avoid visibly crying.

* * *

ADX Florence

Reyes knew she wasn't prepared for seeing Will in ADX, let alone after hearing he had a complete mental breakdown only hours before. She kept her focus outwardly, trying to dismiss her feelings over his condition and how the news would affect Scully and Cara. She knew it would be even harder to mask her worries once she actually saw Will.

There was a standard, rigorous check-in procedure, and after ten solid minutes of being prepped, Doggett and Reyes were finally heading back to first the warden's office, knowing he wanted to have a discussion with the two agents before they saw him.

As they entered his office escorted, the warden, Aaron Wilder, stood and shook each of the agents' hands. "Thanks for the impromptu visit," Doggett said after Wilder had ushered them to have a seat.

"Agents," the warden said, sitting in his chair with a perplexed look, "can you explain these photographs?"

The warden pushed four enlarged color prints of Will's cell, capturing the massive amounts of blood and damage to the concrete from various angles. "Van De Kamp made twelve holes in a solid concrete wall with no weapon recovered in the cell or on his person. Each hole is six inches deep at minimum." Reyes' eyebrow arched as she took in the vast amount of blood that stained the stone. "There's what would equate to nearly two pints of blood splattered on the wall of his cell, yet we cannot detect a single _scratch _anywhere on Van De Kamp's body, nor does he show any symptoms of such a blood loss."

The warden leaned in, his tone softening. "My men saw Van De Kamp nearly kill two guards by just _standing up_." His eyes shifted from Doggett's to Reyes', then back to Doggett's. "It took _four times_ as much of the highest dose of sedatives used in any facility in the country to make this guy calm enough for _eight men _to escort him to the infirmary, where he had to be restrained by _three_ full-body chains for examination."

Doggett sighed to himself, closing his eyes briefly as the warden continued, knowing Will was as good as done concerning his ability to transfer out. "This guy … this guy doesn't have a SINGLE thing on his record, a cop in good standing, then accrues nearly a dozen counts of Federal offenses within a week's time, including second-degree murder." The warden stood, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want answers. I want to know who we're dealing with."

Neither Doggett or Reyes spoke; Doggett felt Reyes' hesitant glance in his direction, and he rubbed his temples. "Sir," Doggett said slowly, "Van De Kamp is a young officer who-"

"Listen to me," the warden said sharply, staring at Doggett, "I'm not an idiot. I know that this guy … isn't _normal_." He leaned on the desk as he lowered his voice. "I've seen a lot of whack-jobs in my career. I've seen the nation's worst offenders _every single day_ for the last _ten years_ here at what is suppose to be the most secure prison in the country. I _know _Van De Kamp isn't your garden-variety scumbag."

Reyes remained quiet as she watched Doggett, his calm exterior masking Will's secrets. "Sir," Doggett replied, "we know Van De Kamp must have been provoked to reach this level of reaction."

"Provoked?" The warden laughed. "How are his hands still attached to his body?" He demanded loudly. "The bones should have been crushed! How does he not possess _a single mark_ caused by the damages he made?"

A long moment of silence hung in the air; Reyes felt her heart racing as the warden eyed Doggett. "I will find out," the warden said cooly, his intensity locked on Doggett. "Your people want us to house this low-life bastard but they don't tell us he's their special pet project? Well guess what? You can't hide this one from me."

Doggett stood, and Reyes followed suit. "You've got ten minutes tonight, and then your scheduled hour-long visit tomorrow," the warden said angrily when he didn't receive a response from either of the agents. "Not a second longer. Now, get out."

"Thank you for your time," Doggett replied calmly, gently pushing Reyes forward toward the exit.

Reye's eyes shut when she heard the warden's door slam behind them as they made their way down to where Will was being held. "John," she whispered as they walked side by side, "this isn't good."

"You're telling me," he replied softly.

They waited in silence as they watched the electronic security door open to the visiting room, the armed guard escorting them inside the second holding chamber where another door was buzzed open, allowing them to step inside the third chamber, the last door opening to their half of the small visiting room that was divided down the center with eight-inch thick plexiglass that gave off a haze to the subjects on the other side of it. Reyes' lips parted as she saw Will sitting in front of the glass on a folding chair, chained multiple times to a concrete pillar in front of him. His shirt was wet with sweat and both it and his pants vividly stained with blood and dirt. Amazingly enough, there wasn't a single bruise, cut, scrape or knick on his beard-shadowed face or his hands, which lay still in front of his body, his wrists cuffed twice on top of the three chains the warden mentioned previously for extra protection. His eyes were focused on the glass in front of him, and he seemed to stare straight through the two agents as they sat in the chairs provided behind the small table in their half of the room.

"It's okay," Doggett said, motioning to the two guards in Will's half of the room who had their weapons trained him. "He'll be fine."

Reyes saw the guards take a quick glance at each other, their faces seeming to show a little gratitude as they exited the room, the thick steel door echoing shut behind them.

The silence that surrounded them was unbearable, yet completely unavoidable. Reyes sighed in relief when she saw Will's eyes shift to Doggett's. "Is she safe?" they heard Will ask, his voice raw with physical soreness and emotion.

Doggett nodded. "Cara is fine, William." He watched Will swallow; his eyes shut as he let Doggett's words sink into his polluted mind, the voices inside of it still clawing at his sanity for control. "What happened this morning?" he asked softly.

"He's here," Will said, his eyes still shut. "He's walking around, right now. He's here."

Reyes glanced toward the door behind Will. "You saw him?"

"He watches me every day."

Doggett's eyes narrowed. "Is that why you …"

"No," Will said firmly. "He left me a message. I … feared for … her safety."

"What kind of message?" Reyes asked.

"A photo. He had to have taken it from my apartment. He dipped it in blood and soaked it in her perfume." Reyes glanced hesitantly over at Doggett, which caught Will's attention. "What?" he asked, seeing the fishy look she gave him.

"Your apartment building was burnt down in a fire yesterday," Reyes explained quietly.

Will's gaze shifted down at his hands, his fingers flexing slowly. "Was anyone hurt?" When he didn't receive a response, his eyes shot up to Reyes. "Did anyone get hurt?" he repeated, the building anger evident in his voice.

"There were four victims," she said softly.

They watched Will, his expression pained as he absorbed the reality of the situation. "Adults?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

"Don't do this to yourself, William," Doggett interrupted, hoping he wouldn't press the issue.

"Children?" Will asked, his breath through his nostrils visibly quickening.

"William-"

"DAMNIT, ANSWER ME!" Will growled as he stood, pulling against his chains as his chair crashed to the floor with his sudden bolt upward.

"Three adults, one child." Doggett's voice was loud and firm, combatting Will's anger. "A 57-year old-man named Frank Holland, an 86-year-old woman named Edna Fruscione, a 28-year-old woman named Melissa Pratt, and a 3-year-old girl named Selena Flores." Doggett stood, stepping toward the glass. "There. You happy now?" he asked, watching as Will breathed heavily across from him. "You want to keep feeding the anger inside of you? Huh? You want to dig yourself further into this hell? Then don't waste our time."

"I have a right to know!" Will shot back, trying to move closer to Doggett as he fought the chains.

"You need to focus, William!" Doggett argued. "This is what they want! Don't you get it?"

"And what?" Will spat. "Am I suppose to not feel anything when _people die _because of me?!"

"This _isn't _your fault!" Doggett replied, staring Will down. "It's a sick, twisted mind game designed to break you, to weaken you until you can't see anything but the darkness!" He watched Will take a deep breath as his eyes searched his. "You're playing right into their hand by lashing out."

"You're not the one in a concrete shithole, chained up and beat like an animal with only your demons to keep you company while they taunt you, reminding you that there's nothing - NOTHING - you can do if they want to kill the people you love and send you a postcard after. I'd say it's a pretty fucking raw deal." Will said, his voice so dark that Reyes instantly got goosebumps on her arms.

Doggett knew the hell Will must have been experiencing was beyond his own comprehension, the only thing he could compare it to was stories he had heard of fellow Marines who had endured capture and torture. "Cara is safe, William," Doggett said softly. "Whatever was sent to you … know that she is safe."

"For now," Will replied cooly, the anger still very present.

"William," Reyes spoke, moving to stand with Doggett, "you've peaked the interest of a lot of people with your actions today."

"My apologies," Will said sarcastically. "I didn't mean to ruin your press releases."

"Cut the crap, William!" Doggett yelled. "People are asking questions, questions we can't answer without taking the only damn key you have to your life and tossing it down the drain for good. Until we can get evidence of the Project and-"

"And what?" Will said, his eyes narrowing. "How I was born with abilities I didn't ask for?" He snorted in disgust. "Do you think a jury will buy that I'm a real-life 'Superman' who is trying to prepare to save an entire planet from destruction by an alien invasion?" His laugh was chilling to Doggett and Reyes. "No wonder they wanted to lock my father up. Can you imagine if he had to worry about supernatural powers on top of his 'crazy' ideas?"

"William," Doggett said, his hands on his hips, "we _will _get you out of here."

"Who would believe … ANY … of this?" Will argued.

"We _will _get you out. I won't stop until I do."

For the first time that night, Will looked at Doggett with as much empathy as he could muster, rather than solely anger. "Look, I appreciate your efforts-"

"We will," Doggett insisted.

Will paused, letting the silence fill the room. His eyes burned in pain as they were locked with Doggett's. "If there's anything left of me to get out," he said softly.


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Dr. Werber's Office  
Washington D.C.  
8:22 P.M.

Scully put the car in park outside of Dr. Werber's office with a deep sigh. With a quick glance back at Cara, who had fallen asleep for the second time during the trip, she turned to Mulder, her eyes silently pleading with him for the details of his phone call with Doggett.

"William … had to be restrained today after demonstrating extreme violence," Mulder whispered.

"What caused it?" Scully asked softly.

"The Colonist who he didn't kill is getting into his head."

"How?"

"Through a photograph of Cara that was hand-delivered to his cell."

Scully paused. "Was the photo from William's apartment?"

Mulder nodded. "Probably."

Scully glanced back at Cara, who had balled up a blanket into a makeshift pillow under her head; she was still sleeping soundly. "She deserves to know."

"Not now," Mulder said quickly.

"Mulder-"

"Scully, if she goes in there knowing William is in extreme distress, she'll never be able to remember." His voice was rigid against the suggestion of telling Cara at that moment.

"Her well-being is more important than lying to her," Scully said firmly.

"It is," Mulder agreed, "and that's why we need to find out as much as we can about the people behind this Project."

Scully closed her eyes, turning her head slightly away from Mulder. "When will you tell her?"

"On the ride home."

She eyed him carefully, seeing he was genuine in his promise. She turned back to Cara, whose eyes opened, her head lifting off of the seat she rested it on. "Don't bother," Cara said softly, looking at Mulder, "I heard everything."

"Cara-"

"Why would you keep it from me?" Cara interrupted.

"You know this will cloud your mind," Mulder said softly.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" she snapped, opening her door and quickly exiting the car.

Mulder sighed, feeling Scully's eyes back on his face. "I just want to protect her, like we promised our son we would," he said.

"I know," Scully whispered, taking his hand in hers.

Mulder's eyes shifted to Cara as she slipped inside the office, leaving him and Scully alone in the car. "She's like looking in a twenty-five-year-old mirror, Scully," he murmured, his eyes still on the door Cara disappeared behind.

"Believe me, I know."

He caught Scully's grin as he turned to look at her, letting one wash over his face momentarily. "Come on," he said. "Let's go muck through some brain sewage."

"You make it sound so attractive, Mulder," Scully said as she stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind her.

"I didn't know mucking through sewage was one of your fantasies, Scully," Mulder quipped as he shut his door, coming to her side as they walked into the office. "But I do agree that you'd look hot in nothing but a pair of galoshes."

* * *

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. Good to see you." Dr. Hertz Werber's gaze fell on Cara. "I've already met Cara. Please, come in."

Mulder allowed Scully to enter first, following behind her as Dr. Werber shut his office's door. They took the two empty seats on other side of Cara, who couldn't help but smooth the broken-in fabric of her jeans as she sat, nervous and distracted with thoughts of Will. Would his violent episode keep him locked away forever? Would she ever be able to see him again without chains or plexiglass separating them? Would they get to him before she could?

"Cara?"

She blinked a few times, her focus returning to Dr. Werber. "I'm sorry," Cara said, knowing she had been asked a question in her daze, but failed to fully hear it.

Dr. Werber smiled. "It's quite all right. I just wanted to see if you were ready to begin."

Cara nodded softly, feeling her palms growing clammier and her stomach tightening.

"Very good," Dr. Werber replied. "Agent Mulder has provided some information regarding your background. I would like to know what you feel is important to gain from this session."

"I want to learn about my childhood," Cara said softly, her eyes glancing over at Mulder to determine if she was suppose to go into any further details. When she saw his small nod of approval, she continued. "I … I was told I underwent testing as a child. A Project. And I would like to learn more about it."

"Very good," the doctor replied, his voice smooth and calming. "Past-life recall comes from long-term memory banks. The soul's history is stored in records, much like a filing system. You are able to retrieve them through your unconscious mind. In this session, you will have an opportunity to gain access to your records, particularly those in the section related to your childhood and the testing you were told of."

Cara froze as Scully reached toward her, holding her hand. She instantly wanted to be sick.

"Before we start the creative visualization for memory to be able to recall easily, it is important to have some deep, pleasant relaxation," Dr. Werber continued. "I'll guide you with some suggestions for enjoying the process of relaxing. Cara, you are in control at every step of the way - I'm just a guide. If I make a suggestion which you believe is not right for you, you may adjust it in any way that seems appropriate. Okay?"

"Okay," Cara said softly.

"Good. Now Cara, the process of relaxing and enjoying the bringing forward of another stage of the soul's journey is safe, smooth, and easy. All you have to do is to allow your imagination to do its best job to get you started. I'll be making some notes as we go along. As you may have observed, the whole session is being recorded on tape which you may take home with you. Do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Okay, good. Now … Ease your body into a comfortable position so you can relax easily. Take a long, deep breath. Exhale slowly. … That's good . . . and as you breathe normally, just become aware of the rhythm of your breathing."

Cara knew it was time to give everything she had for this session. Will's life depended on the secrets that might have been locked deep in her mind, and she needed them exposed in full. It was up to her to do all she could for him.

Dr. Werber's voice continued on in its melodic, soothing tone. "Cara, prepare to enter a level of relaxation which is right for you at this time. When you relax the physical body and have the electrical activity of the brain at an alpha level, the creative mind can be very alert. It is like the period between sleep and awakening, when dreams are quite vivid. It is a creative time. When you quiet the physical body and keep the mental body alert, you quiet the critical and analytical factors and allow the creative factor to function at its best."

Scully gently released Cara's hand; she felt hers and Mulder's eyes on her intently as she funneled her focus on Dr. Werber.

"Hold your hands in a comfortable position," Dr. Werber said. "Please sit comfortably. Adjust your body as necessary for your comfort. Keep your back as straight as possible to keep yourself aligned . . . and when you are ready, just close your eyes."

As the lids to Cara's eyes slowly lowered, she immediately saw Will in the darkness of her mind's eye. She felt her heart stop when she saw his smouldering look of passion in his beautifully intense brown eyes as he pressed her up against the motel wall with desire, his hands running over her face and in her hair.

"Take a deep breath; exhale slowly. That's good . . . and as you breathe normally, just become more aware of the rhythm of your breathing. Become aware of your hands as they touch your body. As you rest there, become aware that you are beginning to experience a sense of comfort, calmness, and inner peace.

Cara saw Will's eyes examine her carefully - she swore she even felt his lips make contact with her neck as his image in her mind slowly drifted away, slowly fading into nothingness as her fingertips touched the fabric of her jeans.

"Your eyes are closed and your eyelids are beginning to relax. Now, please take a long, deep breath and allow the muscles in the eyelids to relax deeper. … Good. Allow that feeling of relaxation to move to the whole facial area. … Now let it spread to the neck and throat, to the shoulders, arms, hands, and fingers. Take a long, deep breath and, as you inhale and exhale, allow the chest-area to relax. Allow the relaxation to flow along the spine, relaxing all areas as it moves along. Let the relaxation spread to the hips, legs, and feet-all the way to the toes. That's great. Now, take another deep breath and realize that the whole body is becoming more and more relaxed."

She wasn't sure where she was, but she had drifted far away from Will and the motel room - everything became hazy and distant.

"As you flow with the rhythm of your breathing, you are becoming aware that, as you breathe, your body becomes more and more relaxed and seems to be lighter. You feel lighter and relaxed. … Lighter and relaxed. And you are becoming very comfortable, calm, and peaceful. You are entering a very pleasant state of relaxation. You might feel that your body is asleep but that your mind is alert. That's good. … Very good. The most important thing now is your own inner reality."

Cara's inner reality had now fully consumed her, and she entered a white space inside of her mind as empty as a blank canvas, waiting to be enriched with color and life.

"In a moment, I'll count rapidly from ten to one, and with each descending number, you will relax deeper and deeper and you will be more centered. At the count of one, you will reach a level of relaxation which is right for you at this time and for the present purpose. I'll begin by counting downward. ...10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1."

She was in a beautiful place, a meadow of vibrant green grass dotted with tiny white wildflowers that swayed in the gentle breeze from the picturesque skies above her. She knew she had seen this place before. She had been at peace here once before.

"You are now at your own level of relaxation. From this level, you are able to function as you choose. You are in control at every step of the way. You feel safe and protected. The experience is something that you want, here and now. At this time, you will be able to gain access to the record of the soul's journey. By looking deeply into your unconscious mind, you can see, hear, feel, or sense- perceive in some way-scenes from the past. Now, you are going to begin a process of recalling some memories. Whatever you recall will be just what you need at this time.

"You may begin by moving yourself to a time when you were in your teens. You will find that it is very easy to do. Choose a memory of that time. Choose a scene or an event that you would like to relate from your teenage years. Now Cara, bring the saliva to your mouth and let your lips become moist so that you may speak easily … and now, you are in your teens. Describe what you are experiencing."

The meadow was gone.

"I'm angry," Cara said softly.

"Why are you angry?" Dr. Werber asked.

"Because of the tests."

"What kind of tests?"

"Resistance tests."

"Cara, what do you see?"

Her eyes still closed, Cara swallowed as she took in her surroundings. "I see a white building in the distance. It has many different rooms, and rooms with cots in them."

"Do you know where you are?"

"I'm near where I live."

"Where do you live?"

"In the white building near the trees I'm sitting under."

"What kind of trees are they?"

"Evergreen."

"Describe the trees."

"There are many of them … in long rows. Hundreds of them."

"What else is near the trees?"

"There a body of water in the distance."

"What does the water look like?"

"It is still, like a sheet of glass."

"What else can you see?"

"A wall … it's all around the building."

"What is the wall made out of?"

"Dark stone."

Scully glanced over at Mulder, her eyebrow arched as she knew Mulder had also picked up on the magnetite reference.

"Do you go outside of the walls?" Dr. Werber asked.

"We're not suppose to," Cara replied.

"Do you?"

"Yes. I'm outside of them now."

"Is anyone with you when you go outside of the walls?"

"Yes."

"Who goes with you?"

"The boys."

"What are their names?"

"They never say."

Mulder took a quick glance at Scully, wondering if she thought one might be William.

"Why do you go outside of the walls?" Dr. Werber asked.

"Because we want to be free," Cara answered.

"Are you prisoners?"

"No."

"Are you mistreated?"

"Only with the tests. The tests ... they are painful at times. They make some of us sick. Others have died."

"Who administers the tests?"

"My father."

"Does he test you?"

"He did, but not now."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't need to. He tests the others."

"Who else is tested?"

"The other children who live there."

"Are the boys tested?"

"Yes. One has different tests."

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other while continuing to listen.

"Where do you go for tests?" Dr. Werber questioned.

"To the chamber," Cara answered.

"Describe the chamber."

"It's round and cold, and you lay inside and look up at the doctors through the glass."

"What do they do during the tests?"

"They look inside our minds."

"What are they looking for?"

"They look for the Shield."

"How do they see the Shield?"

"They inject a virus into our bodies to measure our resistance."

"What kind of virus?"

"They call it Purity."

"And are you resistant?"

"Yes. I can control it as well. It is submissive to me in this form."

"Are there others who are resistant?"

"Yes, but they are weaker."

Mulder glanced over at Scully, who was mesmerized as she watched Cara.

"Are the boys tested?" Dr. Werber continued.

"One of them is tested in the chamber. The other is tested somewhere else," Cara replied.

"Why?"

"Because he's not like the others."

"What is different about him?"

"He is sick."

"Why is he sick?"

"He's dying. They gave him too much."

"Too much of what?"

"The development serum."

"Why did they give him the development serum?"

"Because they need to test it before William takes it."

"Who is William?"

"The Savior."

As Mulder listened carefully, dutifully scribbling his notes on his pad, he felt remorse for the boy who had most likely died from being used as a guinea pig for an experimental serum.

"Okay, now Cara, I would like you to move into a time when you were about ten, eleven or twelve years old. Again, choose an experience and focus on the memory . . . You are now ten, eleven or twelve years old. What's happening?"

She found herself outside again - only it wasn't near the evergreens, but a comforting place all the same.

"Where are you?" Dr. Werber asked.

"A playground," Cara said softly.

"Are you alone?"

"No."

"Who else is there?"

"There are many of us."

"What do they look like?"

"They are children like me. They are all wearing white jumpsuits."

"Why do they wear white jumpsuits?"

"Because it's the rules."

"Who makes the rules?"

"A man."

"What does he look like?"

"His face is wrinkled, and he wears a suit."

"Does he have a name?"

"We call him Cancer Man."

"Why do you call him that?"

"Because he always smokes cigarettes."

Scully's jaw dropped. "CGB Spender," Mulder mouthed to her, watching Cara closely.

"Does he speak to you?" Dr. Werber asked.

"He never speaks to us. Just them," Cara replied.

"Who?"

"The scientists."

"Are the boys there?"

"Yes. They are in the glass room."

"Why are they in the glass room?"

"I don't know."

"Can you talk to them?"

"No."

"What do they look like?"

"They look the same as each other."

"Describe them."

"They are thin. They have blue eyes and knotted hair."

"How do you feel when you look at them?"

"Sad."

"Do the scientists perform tests on you?"

"Yes."

"What do they do?"

"They give me new blood."

"Why do they give you new blood?"

"So I will be safe."

The laughing on the playground began to diminish rapidly, melting from her mind as she began to panic. "Wait! It's leaving!" Cara said quickly, her eyes still shut.

"Cara," Dr. Werber said, leaning toward her, "what do you see?"

"Nothing, it's all going!"

"Cara, at the count of one, you will return to your safe haven, your safe place in your mind. I'll begin by counting downward. ...10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1."

The meadow enveloped her once again, and she breathed deeply, the scent of the air around her filling her nostrils. "Are you in your safe haven?" Dr. Werber asked.

"Yes, but there is someone here," Cara said, which surprised all three watching her. Mulder and Scully glanced nervously to Dr. Werber, who shook his head, just as confused as they were.

"Who is there with you?" the doctor asked.

"He won't say his name."

"What does he look like?"

"He has brown skin and long white hair. He looks wise."

"Albert Hosteen," Mulder mouthed to Scully with excitement.

"What is he doing?" Dr. Werber continued.

"He's sitting next to me," Cara said softly.

"Do you feel safe with him?"

"Yes. He's touching my head."

"Why is he touching your head?"

"I don't know."

"Is he speaking to you?"

"Yes."

"What does he say?"

"Besdaago Łigaii ayani …"

"Does he say anything else?"

"No."

Mulder furiously scribbled a note to Scully on his pad:

_Ayani means buffalo_

They glanced at each other after she silently read the note, perplexed. Scully felt her heart racing as she watched Cara, and she knew Mulder's mind must have been spinning out of control with possibilities.

"Okay Cara, that was good," Dr. Werber said gently. "Now you are ready for the journey back to what is called the present time. You may bring back with you anything that is helpful and beneficial. If you choose, you may release some feelings, memories, and impressions and retain in your conscious mind only that which is positive and helpful. The choice is yours.

"Now, slowly, you are returning, traveling through a comfortable and safe place, through the levels of your mind. You may bring back the information you have chosen. Slowly, come back through the years into what we call the present life, the present day, February fourteenth, two-thousand and twelve, and the present location of Washington D.C.."

Cara's eyes fluttered open, and she licked her lips absentmindedly as she focused on Dr. Werber's face in front of her. "Cara?" she heard him ask softly.

"Yes?" she whispered.

"Do you know where you are?"

"In your office."

"Who am I?"

"Dr. Werber," she said, her mind still a bit foggy.

With a satisfied nod, he gestured to Mulder and Scully. "Do you know these people?"

"Yes."

"Who are they?"

"Sonny and Cher."

The room went dead silent; Cara's voice was firm and sure as she looked from Mulder to Scully. She cracked a slow smile after catching the panicked looks they exchanged in reaction to her prank. "Just kidding," she said softly. "Just some hypnosis humor."

Mulder smiled wide as he chuckled, and Scully shut her eyes in relief. Cara bit her bottom lip as she laughed softly. She heard Dr. Werber's deep sigh and glanced over at him. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's quite alright," the doctor said with a smile.

"So …" Cara inhaled deeply, afraid to hear the worst. "How did I do?"

"Excellent," the doctor said quickly, knowing Mulder was curious about the breach in her safe haven toward the end of her session. "I think you'll find the information you've retained very valuable."

Cara nodded slowly. She had remembered about the trees, the walls, the chamber, the tests and Cancer Man. She hadn't retained anything else. With sudden force, she felt her head begin to spin. "May I use the ladies' room?" she asked.

"Of course," Dr. Werber replied. "It's just down the hall on your right."

"Thanks."

Mulder watched as Cara stood, her balance off as she nearly fell. "Whoa!" Mulder said, jumping up to catch her. "You okay?"

Steadying herself, Cara nodded. "Yeah … I'm okay."

"Why don't I go with you?" Scully said, placing her hand on the small of Cara's back as she walked toward the office door together.

When Mulder saw the door shut behind them, he quickly turned to Dr. Werber. "That's not suppose to happen," he said quietly, referring to the breach of Cara's safe haven.

"No, it's not," Dr. Werber replied, puzzled. "Do you know the man she described?"

Mulder nodded. "His name is Albert Hosteen. He's been dead for quite some time."

"Well," Dr. Werber said with a sigh as he stood, "I can't say I know how or why that happened."

"It's alright," Mulder said, standing with him. He stuck his right hand out, grasping Dr. Werber's in a firm handshake. "Thank you for waiting for us tonight."

"My pleasure," the doctor replied.

* * *

The remainder of the three-hour-long drive home was fairly silent after Mulder spent the first hour rehashing the highlights of her session with Cara, who, for the most part, responded minimally to Mulder's excitement and questions. She apologized after a while, telling him and Scully she was tired, and closed her eyes, trying to use sleep as a barrier between her and her fears for Will that crept back into her mind as soon as she got into the car.

This time, Mulder drove, knowing Scully was in need of a nap herself. About halfway home, Mulder saw both women were peacefully sleeping, and he thought it was perhaps the most serene thing he had witnessed in a long time. Only having William with them would have made it perfect.

Cara was the first to wake as she felt the car come to a halt an hour and a half later, Mulder applying the brakes as he looked for a place to park on the dark street outside of Cara's complex. "It's okay," she said, unbuckling her seat belt, "I'll just walk from here."

"No, we'll walk you up," Mulder insisted, recalling how uneasy on her feet she had seemed after her session.

"Really, I'm fine."

Scully stirred, sitting up as she felt the car jerk to another halt. "Sorry," Mulder mumbled. "I feel like I keep seeing open spots."

"It gets crowded at night," Cara explained. "Really, I'm okay to walk up myself."

"Mulder," Scully said, "just let us off. You can park the car around the block."

"Alright," Mulder agreed, pulling over for Scully and Cara to exit. He watched them enter the well-lit complex easily, then began to drive around the block to find parking.

It was about seven minutes later when Mulder had parked the car, his long legs walking with purpose toward Cara's apartment complex. He wanted to make sure Cara was alright - she seemed overwhelmed with what happened earlier in D.C., and he wanted to be available to talk her through anything she might be feeling.

He rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, where Cara lived, and proceeded down the hall to Apartment 914. With a quick knock, Mulder waited outside of the door for Cara or Scully to answer. "It's Mulder," he said, loud enough for them to hear but softly enough not to disturb the other residents of the complex.

He smiled as Cara opened the door. "Hey," he said.

Cara opened the door for Mulder slowly, her eyes falling on his chest as her body blocked the doorway. Mulder's eyes narrowed down at her as he caught the slight quiver of her bottom lip. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, putting his hand over her shoulder.

Her eyes were glassy as she met his, and he became even more concerned. "Cara?" he said softly, trying to step inside, but she barely gave him room to. The way she looked at him troubled him deeply, her eyes pleading with him to understand something he couldn't. Gently guiding her backward, Mulder opened the door fully, and his gaze immediately flicked upward to what was across from him and Cara.

Mulder's eyes widened as he saw Brody Wesson with a gun pressed against Scully's head. Mulder instinctively pushed Cara behind him, his arms reaching backward to protect her.

"Agent Mulder, glad you could make it," Wesson said with a smile as Mulder watched in horror at him pushing the gun closer against Scully's temple.


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Mulder felt the lump in his throat grow as he quickly took in the details of the scene in front of him, his mind flicking a switch into a mode that scoured for bits of information that might aid him to help Scully. His right hand was still pressed against Cara's arm behind him, and he breathed deep as he met Scully's eyes with his own. Though he knew she had been in similar situations many times before, he still understood there was always a freshness to feeling your life grasped in the unpredictable hand of someone else, and he saw that register deep in her eyes.

"Cara, close the door," Wesson said calmly, continuing to hold Scully in place.

"You know him?" Mulder asked Cara behind him, not taking his eyes off of Wesson and Scully. He felt Cara brush by him as she slowly closed the door.

"He's the asshole I was ready to shoot before," Cara said softly, sending a cold glare in Wesson's direction.

"Replace the chain," Wesson ordered, referring to the security chain on Cara's apartment door. She slid the chain slowly across, swallowing as she finished. She knew her personal gun was in her bedroom, which wasn't too far away. She just had to somehow hope that Mulder could handle Wesson while she- "Don't bother concocting a plan, Cara," Wesson said, catching the look in Cara's eyes. "I've covered my bases. Your adorable little P238 is already disabled, and you'll note Agent Scully's gun is as well." Wesson directed his attention to Mulder, who was still by the door, trying to keep Cara behind him. "Now, I'll just need yours, Agent Mulder. Take it out. Nice and slow. And for God's sake, don't play games with me. I've got no problem killing more than one person tonight."

With his left hand raised in surrender by his waist, Mulder reached into his waistband and slowly pulled his gun out, holding it up for a moment to show Wesson he wasn't taking any risks. "Good," Wesson said. "Now, put it on the floor and kick it to me."

"What do you want?" Mulder said as he complied, squatting down to put his gun on the floor.

"Kick it over. Now," Wesson said, digging his gun against Scully's temple. Mulder saw her wince as Wesson handled her roughly, pressing the cold metal into her skin.

"Alright," Mulder said. "Just take it easy." He kicked his gun over to Wesson, who smiled. Mulder heard Cara gasp in horror as Wesson slammed the butt of his gun into Scully's head, knocking her unconscious. Wesson let Scully fall to the floor, her eyes shut and a trickle of blood beginning to form at her brow. Mulder grit his teeth in anger, still reaching back to block Cara from Wesson, who now possessed two weapons.

"Okay Cara," Wesson said with a smile, "you're the star of the show now." With his gun aimed directly at Mulder, he said, "Take three steps in my direction."

Cara dutifully stepped past Mulder, who grimaced as she brushed across him, angry at Scully's injury and now Cara's vulnerability. "Good," Wesson said, seeing Cara halfway between himself and Mulder. "Now Cara, I'm going to be generous and give you the freedom to choose how this evening will go." Wesson's eyes were locked on Mulder's. "Option One - You don't cooperate with me, which means I will blow a hole in Mulder's brains, sending into immediate effect the destruction of your precious William Van De Kamp, rendering him to serve darkness for all eternity." He paused, seeing out of the corner of his eye the deep breaths Cara was taking in attempts to calm her nerves. He smiled, continuing to stare at Mulder. "Option Two - You cooperate with me fully, which means you do as I ask and I do not kill Mulder, and William is safe from the impending doom of darkness." His smile widened. "I really think it's a no brainer, no pun intended, but I'll give you thirty seconds to decide, starting now."

"Cara, listen to me," Mulder's voice was urgent as he continued to watch Wesson, "protect the Shield. You need to protect the Shield."

Wesson laughed. "Do you really think she can protect it on her own?" he asked.

"Cara," Mulder said quickly, "we don't even know if the prophecy is true. Don't do this. You need to protect the Shield."

"Mulder-" Cara began.

"Cara," Mulder cut her off. "Don't do it. It's a trap. It's a trap you'll never get out of. Don't do this. William needs you. You need to stay alive for him."

Wesson laughed again. "William won't give a shit about you if Mulder dies. Fifteen seconds."

"Cara," Mulder said, his voice urgent, "you need to protect the Shield. Your father told you to protect it, now protect it!"

Cara's lips parted as she breathed heavily, trying to assess the situation as a police officer rather than in such a personal circumstance. As she looked at Wesson, though, her heart sank and she knew she couldn't risk Mulder's safety. She could hear Mulder's desperate pleas, and her head began to spin.

"Ten seconds," she heard Wesson say, cocking the gun.

As she heard Wesson counting down to one from ten, she found her voice as he said the number three. "Alright!" she cut him off, the fear evident in her voice. "I'll cooperate." Her eyes were fixed on Wesson, but she heard Mulder's unmistakable voice behind her as he cursed.

"Damnit, Cara!" Mulder said, still locking eyes with Wesson.

"Good choice," Wesson said to Cara, smiling at Mulder. He uncocked the gun and fished around in his pocket, tossing a pair of handcuffs at Cara's feet. "Now, cuff Scully to the heat register," he ordered, tilting his head in the direction of the heat register behind Cara's sofa. "Remember your deal, Cara," he growled, sensing her hesitation.

Cara slowly picked up the handcuffs, and knelt in front of Scully. She quickly examined the growing welt on Scully's forehead, slipping her fingers to her neck to feel her pulse to make sure it was steady. It was. She gently took Scully's arms, dragging the small woman a few feet to the left, lacing her arms around the bolted-in register and cuffing them together. "Tighter," Wesson ordered, seeing Cara left wiggle room in Scully's restraints. With hesitation, she squeezed the cuffs tightly against Scully's wrists, praying Scully would understand the situation when she woke.

"Excellent," Wesson said, his eyes still on Mulder, who was desperately trying to figure out a way to overtake the large, fit man in front of him. "Now, come stand next to me."

Cara moved slowly to Wesson's side, and he grabbed her, pulling her roughly against him. Wesson's smile made Mulder sick. "Mmm, good," he said, letting his hand roam over her hip for a quick moment. He shoved his gun quickly into the side of her head, and she winced. "Now, Mulder, it's your turn." He took out another pair of cuffs, and tossed them to Mulder. "Kneel in front of the register and cuff yourself to it," he ordered. He grabbed Cara's hair, yanking her head roughly backward as Mulder hesitated. "Now," he barked, digging the gun deeper into Cara's temple.

Mulder locked eyes with Cara, his face showing the disgust he felt for Wesson. Her lip quivered as she watched him move slowly to the register, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip as he knelt in anger. He slowly began to cuff himself, his eyes closed as he fought against the rage and helplessness he felt. Wesson dragged Cara harshly over to the register; Scully was slumped against it and Mulder was now cuffed, seething in anger at Wesson.

Wesson aimed the gun at Mulder's head, then shoved Cara forward. "Tighten them," he barked. Mulder knew Wesson had the ability to take the shot at Cara if he tried anything, though the gun was aimed at his head. He watched as Cara knelt next to him and her hands clamped down the cuffs tightly against his skin. When their eyes met, the pain in Cara's eyes made Mulder's heart break for her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the tears threatening to escape her eyes.

"Cara, listen to me-" Mulder's voice was rushed and low before Wesson cut him off.

"Move it," Wesson said, grabbing Cara by her hair and yanking her backwards into himself. Mulder's jaw tightened as he saw the momentary look of pleasure come over Wesson at the intimate physical contact he made with Cara. "Mmm," he said, continuing to pull her head back by her hair as he dug the gun into her head. "Now, Cara," he said, smiling at Mulder, "be a good girl and get the tape out of my pocket."

"You son of a bitch," Mulder yelled angrily.

Wesson cocked his gun in response. "I'm sorry, Mulder, did you say something?" he said, pressing it with force into Cara's head, which made her whimper in pain. "Get the tape," he growled to Cara, and she closed her eyes and slipped her hand in Wesson's pant pocket, feeling a small roll of duct tape. "Mmm, a nice perk of the job," Wesson said with a grin that made Mulder enraged as Cara withdrew the tape.

"You're dead, you bastard," Mulder growled.

"Shut up!" Wesson snapped. "Cara, tape their mouths shut," Wesson ordered, shoving Cara forward and aiming the gun at Mulder. With a pause, Cara obeyed and tore a large piece off of the small roll of tape, kneeling down in front of Scully first, applying the tape to her mouth carefully. She moved to Mulder; her breathing was quick and a tear escaped from her eye as she gently pressed the tape over Mulder's mouth, which was opening to say something to her. Her fingers lingered, and she searched his eyes, whispering to Mulder, "Please tell Will I love him."

As Cara was roughly dragged backwards by Wesson, Mulder pulled against his cuffs and tried to speak against the tape stuck over his mouth, only managing throaty mumbles that didn't carry in the room. Cara watched Mulder as Wesson pulled her away, her mouth open and tears running down her cheeks. "Get your coat and bag," Wesson said, and Cara complied, picking up her coat and wristlet that she had been ordered to take off before from the chair across from Mulder. "Put it on," Wesson demanded, and Cara slipped on her long black coat, zipping it slowly as her eyes remained fixed on Mulder, watching his struggle against his restraints. "Say goodbye," Wesson sneered, flicking off the light in the living room and dragging Cara out of the door, the sound of it slamming echoing in Mulder's ears as he groaned, pulling against the tight handcuffs in anger.

Wesson kept the gun discreetly pressed into Cara's side as they made their way down the elevator and outside to Wesson's black SUV. "Get in," he said, and Cara climbed into the passenger's seat. "Buckle up," Wesson ordered, and he watched Cara put on her seat belt, then took her wrists and drew her arms up, cuffing her wrists around the pull-down handle in the SUV's roof. When he was satisfied she couldn't move, he slammed the door shut, moving quickly to the driver's seat. Jamming the key in the ignition and placing his gun on his lap, Wesson pulled out onto the road and drove away.

* * *

Inside Cara's apartment, Mulder desperately tried to escape his confines, his eyes falling on Scully, who was still slumped over, unconscious from Wesson's blow to her head. He tried to reach the tape on his mouth with his fingers, but couldn't pull his arms up enough. He growled, using his feet to bang against the wall, hoping it would wake a neighbor who would then, in turn, call the police.

Across from him, Scully began to rouse awake from the kicking Mulder was doing, her eyes fluttering open. "Mulder!" she tried to say, only her mouth was covered in tape. Her eyes widened as she realized their situation. She joined Mulder's kicking, hoping it would be enough to help them.

* * *

"Why don't you just kill me?" Cara snapped, her hands cuffed above her head. The weight of her arms pulling against the cuffs burned the skin on her wrists that bore it, and her fingers tingled from the lack of blood circulating to them.

"I don't want to kill you," Wesson said, pulling the car over on the highway he was on. He threw it in park and looked at Cara. "Listen to me," he said, and Cara was confused by his gentle tone, "that was a show, Cara."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Look, I had to make them think you were truly in danger." Wesson's blue eyes searched Cara's face in the darkness of the car, and Cara looked into them closely. Wesson took out the clip from his gun and tossed it on the floor behind him in the back seat. "I don't want to kill you, Cara."

"Who are you?" Cara asked, still searching his eyes.

"You know who I am," Wesson said, placing the empty gun on Cara's lap. He took out the keys to her handcuffs, showing them to her. "I know you remember me after your session tonight."

Cara's mind traveled quickly back to the boys she saw in her hypnosis session, their piercing blue eyes grabbing at her heart. She knew her gasp was audible as she looked at Wesson, who closed his eyes, seeming relieved. "You do remember," he said softly.

"You're … a Shield?" she whispered.

Wesson nodded, reaching over to uncuff Cara. She winced, still unsure of what his intentions were. "I won't hurt you," he said softly, his touch careful as he freed her. "I'm sorry I did before. I truly am."

Cara immediately thought about bolting out of the car and fleeing for her apartment, but it was Wesson's intense blue eyes that locked her body in place. She felt the overwhelming urge to stay; she knew her initial curiosity of his eyes was now valid, and as she looked at Wesson in the darkness, she began to see in him the boy with knotted hair behind the glass.

"You're a Shield?" she whispered again, unsure of how it was possible.

Wesson nodded. "My name is really Brody Wesson. I am really a detective for the NYPD. I didn't lie to you."

"But … you were a boy when …"

"My brother, Eli, and I were twelve when they began the tests."

"Then you should be my age."

"I should. Except they gave me the serum when I was fourteen."

Cara's eyebrow raised. "The development serum?"

Wesson nodded. "We were the first two test subjects before William. They accelerated my life by fifteen years, which is what they needed to test for William. I'm forty-four now." Wesson laughed. "At least I got to bypass the awkward teenage years."

As Cara examined Wesson's face in the dimly lit car, her heart began to race as the memories flooded her mind, as if a gate had been opened during the session and now her past was charging at her with ferocity. "Remember we used to pitch stones into the trees just to watch the birds fly out of them?" Wesson said softly with a laugh. "All we wanted to know was that life existed outside of those walls."

Cara shook her head in disbelief, the memory of her, Brody and Eli laughing as the birds above them hastily flapped their wings, disapproving of their game. "Remember how you cried when you hit the one?" Wesson asked gently. "You didn't mean to. We never meant to hurt them. We stopped after that day. When it died, Eli wanted to bury it inside the compound. But you didn't want to. You didn't want it to be trapped like us for eternity."

Cara was frozen, her heart racing as her palms pressed into the seat beside her. "Oh my God," she whispered. "It's really you." No one else would know that memory - she barely knew it herself. No one else besides her, Brody and Eli had ever ventured outside of the stone walls of their compound, for fear of being punished. Cara remembered it was her initial idea that sparked their daily escapes, remembering how when they were caught, the boys were forced to stay in the glass room, on display for their disobedience. Brody had told them Cara wasn't with them - he had saved her from punishment. She remembered.

"It is," Wesson said softly.

"But you … you have your memories."

"They let some of us keep them. There wasn't enough time to clear all of our memories, so they opted just for a select few."

"Why wasn't there enough time?"

"The Project was being stopped," Wesson explained. "Information about the Project was leaked, and your father panicked. He picked the strongest of the Shields and erased their memories to protect them." Wesson laughed. "I wasn't a very good Shield. Not as good as you - no one was as good as you. But I did alright with the serum."

"What about Eli?" Cara whispered. "He was sick from the serum …"

Wesson's eyes closed. "Eli died three days after you were taken out of the compound for good," he replied, the pain in his voice creeping out. "His body couldn't handle the serum."

Cara felt the sorrow hit her directly in her chest. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"He's in a much better place," Wesson replied softly.

"So … you tested the serum for Will?"

"William was the reason for any of us to get the serum."

Cara swallowed, still feeling the initial shock of the revelation. "Then what do you want? Why am I here?"

"When word got out about you and William, I knew there was trouble brewing. People were saying William went postal, but I knew he was being set up. So, I found a way to slip into his position at the station to keep tabs on him. And you."

Cara's eyebrows furrowed. "Can they track you?"

"No," Wesson said. "Not naturally with the Shield, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

She heard him sigh. "I made a mistake," he said, his voice soft. "Because I still have my memories, when I first got out, I was warned by your father to separate myself from my family, or risk the consequences of their association." Wesson's eyes closed. "I inadvertently got in contact with my mother a few weeks ago, just before everything with you and William, and they found out who I was by accident through her."

"Who's they?"

"The Colonists," Wesson explained. "They decided to keep me alive because they have an advantage over me. They are forcing me to work for them, to find and destroy other Shields that I know exist or else my mother will die. Then they managed to flush William out, which helped them to connect the dots to you being the Shield they really wanted to find. They weren't sure if you existed."

Cara's lips parted. "So … you're suppose to kill me."

"But I won't," Wesson said softly. "That's why I had to put on a show tonight. See," he leaned closer to her, "they can get inside Mulder's and Scully's minds, but not ours. So I had to make them believe that you were in genuine danger, so that they would think I'm doing the job. But in reality, you're safer with me than with them. The less they know, the safer they are."

Cara rubbed her wrists, feeling the weight of Wesson's gun on her lap. "So where are you taking me?" she asked.

"It's your choice, Cara," Wesson answered gently. "You can come with me and we can go the compound and find evidence for William, or you can run. I won't stop you."

"Wesson," Cara's voice shook, "they'll kill your mother if they find out I'm alive."

Cara watched as Wesson chewed on his bottom lip briefly. He nodded. "I know. So does she."

"But … she's your mother!"

"Cara," Wesson grabbed her hands, taking them into his with gentle firmness. "This … you … William … it's so much bigger than any of us. William is the only hope this world has left. And you're the only one who can protect him." Wesson's eyes were so intense that it caused a chill to rush up Cara's spine. "You and William are the future," he added softly.

A thick silence lingered in the air between them. Cara's head was whirling with information; she looked down at the empty gun on her lap, considering all of her possible options. Emotion flooded her as she thought of Will locked in a cage for evils he wasn't responsible for, and as she thought about the innocent people who had died at the Colonists' hands in the fire. Her heart dropped at the thought of Wesson's mother being so willing to give her life for a belief in William, and her as well. _Faith, _she thought. _My father said the people would have the faith. William is the hope they are putting their faith in. And our love will protect it._

She felt the heat from Wesson's hands that still held hers gently, and she felt her pulse quicken at his touch; it was absolutely electric. "I don't know where the compound is," Cara whispered, the disappointment clear in her voice as well as the evident distraction from Wesson's hands touching hers.

"I'm pretty sure I know where it is," Wesson replied. Cara's head shot up and she looked into Wesson's eyes. "The ride out was pretty disorienting - it was suppose to be. But I think if we put our memories together, we can find it. If you want to come, that is." He released her hands slowly; he, too, had been mesmerized by the electricity they had shared with the simple contact.

"I do," Cara said, feeling her tears welling at the idea of finding evidence for Will.

Wesson smiled. "Alright, then let's go. They can't track us, so it should buy us enough time to get to the compound and find something."

"But … what about Mulder? They'll try to kill him!"

"Cara," Wesson's voice was firm, but still empathetic, "William is, and has always been, in complete control of his choice to serve the darkness or the light. The prophecy is only true in the sense that seeing his father killed would allow the darkness to consume him. But … they've got a stronger weapon to use for that reason now."

"Me," Cara whispered. Wesson's nod confirmed her assumption.

"They have William where they want him, and they've known where you are since William saved you."

"Then why not come after me?"

"Don't you get it?" Wesson sighed. "This is one gigantic chess game for them. If they kill you, they increase William's power against themselves. If they kill William, they lose his power to use for their own purposes. Their goal is to keep William alive, but drive him to the darkness, using you as bait to lure him there."

"The photograph …"

"They'll send him messages, pretend like you're in danger, when it's really William who is in danger. We need to get him out of there before he destroys himself. Once the darkness has him, they'll use him to kill you."

Cara nodded. "Alright. Then let's go."

* * *

Cara's Apartment  
3:34 a.m.

A few hours after returning to New Jersey from D.C. and being cuffed to the heat register, Mulder and Scully were finally free, thanks to the police who were called because of the ruckus they had caused by banging their cuffs against the register and kicking the floor and the wall behind them.

Mulder stood in silence, the hum of police activity around him fading into the background as he rubbed his wrists, watching as Scully was examined by a medic. Cara was gone, and they had no idea where to even start to look for her. He hung his head, knowing the phone call he was about to make to Doggett would be devastating to Will if he found out. He had to make sure Doggett was able to keep the news away from him. Will had barely kept his head when she was alright, let alone now. Mulder knew Will wouldn't survive if he knew that Cara was now truly in danger.

Doggett groaned as he rolled over toward the offensive ring of his cell phone, his eyes opening slowly. He and Reyes had crashed at the hotel as soon as they returned from seeing Will, each exhausted with defeat. He glanced at the clock beside him as he felt Reyes shift toward him, still sleeping. 1:37 a.m. He grabbed his phone. "Yeah," Doggett answered, his voice a bit groggy.

"Agent Doggett, I'm sorry to wake you."

"What happened?" Doggett asked, concerned when he realized it was Mulder.

He heard Mulder sigh. "Cara's been taken."

Doggett squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed his hand over his face. "Shit."

"It was her new 'partner', Brody Wesson. Apparently he was saying he was NYPD. He was in her apartment when we returned from D.C., and he cuffed me and Scully, then took her at gunpoint."

"Are you sure?" Doggett asked with surprise. "I keep up with the NYPD and I know that guy's name. He has a great reputation. He's broken a lot of big cases. Six-foot, large frame, dark hair, brown skin, blue eyes?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Mulder, I'm not doubting what happened, but it just seems odd. Brody Wesson is a rising star in the NYPD. His work in the OCCB has been pivotal."

"The OCCB?"

"Organized Crime Control Bureau."

Mulder paused, the gears in his mind rotating almost quicker than he could keep up. "Wait a minute …" He began to pace, catching Scully's eye as she was examined by the medic across the room. "Cara said she thought he was a plant."

"So maybe he is …"

"No, I don't think so," Mulder said, standing still. "I think it's a cover up."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"What if … What if he is trying to protect her?"

"You just told me the guy took her at gunpoint."

"This guy works on breaking cases in organized crime, right?" Mulder began to pace again. "What if he's close to exposing the Colonists?"

"Then he'd be eliminated."

"So he would try to find Cara, give her as much information as he could before they kill him."

"It's a stretch, considering he did take her at gunpoint."

Mulder nodded. "Cara remembered two boys from the Project in her session tonight. Wesson fits the description ... sort of. Anyway, what if Wesson is one of them?"

"And he's trying to bluff the Colonists ..."

"To get her to safety."

"Maybe to find evidence of William's innocence. I mean … it's a stretch."

"Shit."

"What?"

"If it is that, I think we just fucked it up for them," Mulder mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"Because we know, now they know."

"Damn. Wait," Doggett sat up, and Reyes now woke. "How do you know it's really him and not a bounty hunter posing as him? He could be trying to pull a double-play on her."

Mulder froze, facing Cara's living room window as he rubbed his eyes. "Fuck. I guess we don't."

"Then either way you look at it, Cara really is in danger."

"You can't tell William," Mulder said firmly.

"Mulder, how am I going to keep national news out of an entire state?"

Mulder felt Scully move to his side, her hand sliding onto his arm as he stared out of Cara's apartment window. "You can't." He sighed. "He'll break when he finds out."

"We'll talk to him when we see him later this morning. We'll help him." Doggett wasn't convinced of the confidence he tried to portray over the phone to Mulder, and Reyes saw it as she watched him stare blankly ahead of him at the motel wall.

With a moment's pause, Mulder nodded. "I'll call you when I hear something."


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

ADX Florence

Will's body ached. It felt foreign to him, the sensation of lingering pain and discomfort. He could only imagine it was caused by the violent darkness that had been consuming him, eating him alive and leaving him to feel the continual ache of its destruction as it bore deeper with each passing moment.

He had been moved to a different cell, and he lost the only privilege, the most basic one, he had, which was freedom from restraints. After seeing Doggett and Reyes the night before, he was escorted back to his new residence by six guards while being reminded the entire trip there that if he dare try anything, he would be shot on site without question. Will didn't resist them - he didn't have a need to. He tried to convince himself that what Doggett had told him was true - that Cara was safe, and that he would soon be reunited with her - but his doubts became increasingly stronger than his hope, leaving him paralyzed as he sat on his concrete slab of a bed, his appendages chained tightly together.

They had taken away the piece of foam they called a pillow, leaving him with nothing but an elevated concrete surface to lay on. It was uncomfortable before, and now even moreso. He had tried to find peace on it, his hands and ankles bound, but wasn't able to. So he sat, staring at the unblemished concrete walls in front of him, wondering if he had lost his chance to ever see Cara again.

He had pissed off the warden, at least that's what the guards said, laughing and spitting at him as they slammed his cell's steel door shut that night. They hated him, even more than they hated him for just being sent to ADX. Now, they hated him on a personal level because of what he had done to the two guards he tossed off of his back during his outbreak of rage. Will hadn't meant to hurt anyone, which seemed pointless to mention, given the reputation he had before he even arrived at ADX. To them, he was now not only a murderer, rapist and a thief, but a psychotic animal that didn't even resemble a human to them.

It was still dark in his cell as Will stared at the walls, knowing he would see Doggett and Reyes again this morning to discuss his upcoming trial. He didn't know how much sleep he got that night, but he knew it wouldn't matter. No amount of sleep would silence the voices in his mind; they were even present in his dreams. There was nothing he could do to escape them - they even threatened to steal the memory of his and Cara's kiss from him, but Will continued to fight to remember it, to remember the good that was still in the world around him he was removed from.

"Van De Kamp. Armed guards in."

Their voices were like blades slicing across his ears, offensive and painful to him. They reminded Will of the darkness that mocked him in his mind through their thoughts Will read that he couldn't silence. He remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the concrete in front of him as more men than he even knew could fit in such a tiny shithole poured in through the doorway. "Get up," one barked while another didn't wait for Will's compliance, beating his back with a nightstick the guards now carried while around him. Apparently, no one else was deemed as hostile as he. With a groan, Will stood, his back still warm from the hard rod slamming into it. "Move," the guard who had spoken before ordered, and Will dutifully stepped away from his bed, letting the men escort him as he allowed them to believe they were in control. Will knew better, and he knew some of the guards did, too, by their thoughts. He had no reason to fight. Will's quarrel wasn't with men doing their jobs, however inadequate their assessment of him was. Will was determined to try to save his fight for the man - or thing - that mattered.

Yet as he walked down to the visiting room with the guards, Will became less sure it would be possible to hold himself back as he passed by what he assumed was his old cell - he could still smell her perfume seeping through the air from the day before. He shut his eyes, trying to focus as Mulder and Doggett had directed him to many times. He had to believe in Doggett and Reyes, who were his only true connection to the world now. He had to trust that Cara was safe, and that his parents were as well.

Will was pushed harshly into his side of the visiting room, and he saw the opposite was empty. Three guards chained him, once again, to the concrete pole in his half of the room, shoving a folding chair somewhat near him and slamming the steel door behind him. The chair was too far away for Will to reach, so he stood, his eyes closed as he leaned his forehead on the cool concrete and waited.

He swore he hadn't, but he knew he had fallen asleep when he was suddenly aware of Doggett's and Reyes' entrance into their half of the visiting room, and he blinked a few times to regain focus through the haze of the plexiglass. "William," Doggett said, examining him carefully as he stepped toward him. "How are you?"

"Doing great," Will replied, his tone dry. "I was expecting something else when they mentioned chains and a pole, but after this, I have an appointment for a back massage."

Doggett sighed in disappointment at Will's dry humor, but knew it was a defense tactic that he inherited from his father. "William," Reyes said, crossing her arms over her chest, "we spoke to your parents last night."

"Really?" Will's defenses were still up. "Well, that's great. At least they're still alive."

"Jesus, William," Doggett growled, "how are you going to sit in front of a jury if you can't even help yourself with us?"

"I think we all know the jury has already made up their minds."

"If you keep acting the part, then you might be right."

"I'm sorry," Will sneered, "I'm just not in the mood to play the boy scout right now."

Doggett slammed his fist on the table behind him, beyond frustrated with Will, but also scared at his rapid decline into darkness. "For fuck's sake, William, wake up!" he yelled. "You've got two people right here giving you _everything _they have, and two more risking their asses back home. So why don't you-"

"What do you mean, two?" Will interrupted, his voice softened with the question as his defenses began to drop. He had caught Doggett's slip-up, though he didn't know yet about Cara.

"Three," Doggett said quickly, trying to brush the critical error under the proverbial rug. Reyes swallowed, but kept her poker face for Doggett's sake.

"No," Will said calmly, stepping as close as he could to the glass while chained to the pole, "you said _two._"

"So I missed a person, big deal."

The intensity in Will's eyes scared Reyes as he stared at Doggett. "You're lying," he said quietly, carefully examining Doggett's face.

"William, I'm not-"

"You're lying," Will repeated, pulling against the chains to the point where his skin was being rubbed raw as he tried to move even closer to Doggett. His cold, calculated stare made the hairs on Doggett's neck stand on end.

"William-"

"Where is she?" Will asked, his voice low as his gaze seemed to burn a hole straight through the plexiglass.

"William-"

"WHERE IS SHE?" Will yelled, cutting off Reyes who had tried to help Doggett.

"She's gone," Doggett said firmly. He watched as he saw his words register in Will's mind, and prayed he would be able to help him remain calm. "William, we don't have any reason to believe that she is in danger." It was a bit of a lie, but not completely.

"So Cara just decided to go on a vacation?" Will yelled. "You're lying!" He yanked at his chains, surging forward at Doggett.

"William, we have reason to believe Cara is with another Shield," Reyes said, stepping closer to Doggett to come to his aid. She met Will's eyes as he turned to look at her; she noted the deep, seemingly laborious breaths he took.

"What kind of reason?" Will demanded.

Will's eyes shifted back to Doggett as he spoke. "Cara underwent regressive hypnosis last night in Washington D.C. in attempts to recover memories regarding the Project. She was successful in retaining a few key identifiers, one of them being a description of the man who she went with."

"My parents just … let her go?"

"No, William, he-"

"I asked them to protect her! And they just let her go with some person she _might _remember from a _hypnosis session_?" Will wasn't buying the story they were selling him.

"They didn't have a choice," Reyes said, and she regretted her choice of words instantly.

"Oh, so the old friend took her by force?" Will retorted. "Well, I guess she's not in danger at all, now is she?"

"William," Doggett said, "we have reason to believe he took Cara for her benefit, and for yours as well."

Will's laugh was cold. "So what you're saying to me is, you believe an old Project buddy of Cara's, who she can't fully identify, took her by force, and you think it's _her _benefit he's after? What in your right fucking mind would make you think that? How do you know he's not using her as a plea bargain? Huh?!" Will's heart was racing. "These people … they'll stop at NOTHING to destroy the Shields, him included if he really is one. How do you know he's not using Cara to save his own ass?!"

Doggett and Reyes were silent. Will had a valid point. "Your father believes that-"

"My father …" Will snorted, hanging his head as he cut Doggett off. "I should've known."

"Mulder believes Wesson is an ally," Doggett finished. "You've got to trust that your father has Cara's and your best interests in mind."

Doggett and Reyes watched carefully as Will's head remained down, his face mostly out of their sight. Reyes silently prayed Will was controlling the rage that he had displayed the day before; he didn't need another reason for people to doubt him. She was relieved, when Will's head lifted, and she saw the water forming in his eyes. "Please get me out of here," he whispered, his eyes falling on Doggett. Reyes felt the pain in Will's voice, and watched as he wrestled with the evils of his mind right in front of them. "Please. I need … I need to protect her."

"We're doing everything we can, son," Doggett replied softly, and Reyes knew in that moment, he truly did view Will as a son - a son he wasn't about to lose like he had his own.

Will wanted to believe there was a light at the end of the tunnel he was stuck in, but all he saw around him was blackness that seemed to never have an end.

* * *

9:20 a.m. EST

Cara woke suddenly, her heart stopping as she surged forward in her seat against the seat belt she wore. "Whoa!" Wesson said, glancing over at her. "You okay?"

Her eyes darted to him as her mind quickly put in place the pieces of the memory puzzle regarding everything in the hours before. "Yeah," she said softly. "Just got disoriented."

"You were out for a little while, so it makes sense."

Cara glanced at the clock on the center console. "No wonder I'm hungry."

"Want to stop and get something?" Wesson asked.

"Well, I guess I should ask first where we are," Cara replied, taking in the surroundings through her through the passenger's side window as they whipped by. It wasn't a place that rang any bells, though it was quite beautiful.

"About 20 miles south of the Sentinel Range Wilderness Area." He saw Cara wrinkle her brow as she tried to pinpoint where he was referring to. "Upstate New York," he explained. "The Adirondacks. I took the liberty of going on a hunch I've had for years from my research and piecing together my memories."

"Wait …" Cara's wheels were turning quickly. "The lake. It looks like a sheet of glass, because it's so clear."

Wesson nodded. "I remembered that too. That's why I think it's Mirror Lake we saw."

"Makes sense. And the rows of evergreen trees I remember would be there."

"And you can see it all from an elevation, which leads me to believe it's in the Sentinel Range."

Cara frowned. "How do we know it's in New York?"

"Well," Wesson said, taking a quick glimpse of Cara before returning his attention to the road, "I remembered one of the kids that came in said he hadn't been in the car long when his dad drove him, and he was wearing a Yankees shirt before they made him change into the jumpsuit."

"Nice work, Detective," Cara said with the first genuine smile she remembered having in a long time.

"I try," Wesson replied, trying to ignore the flutter in his gut Cara's smile caused.

"Great," Cara mumbled, looking down at her casual shoes she wore. "I'm not prepared for a hike."

"Actually, I also took the liberty of packing you a bag of appropriate gear and clothes before you came back to your apartment. I was hoping you'd come to save me the awkwardness of having done that for no reason."

Cara's eyebrow raised. "Please tell me you didn't go in my underwear drawer." She saw the gentle flush spread across Wesson's cheeks, the dark stubble he sported masking only some of it. "Shit," she mumbled. "This is embarrassing."

Wesson swallowed, fighting the images that popped into his mind. "Trust me, you've got nothing to be embarrassed about."

Cara turned to him, taking a long look at his face as he kept his eyes fixed on the road. "Well, thanks for thinking ahead," she offered, trying to erase the tension that was growing.

"Sure," he mumbled. "I packed your gun, too. That's how I disabled it."

"Ahh," she replied. Her eyes took in the snow-covered scenery around her, feeling her stomach rumble. "Yeah, I think food is going to have to rank in priority."

"I saw a sign for a small lodge-type eatery a little ways back. Maybe it's coming up soon."

They drove in silence for a while, Wesson keeping his eyes on the road that, though it had been plowed, clearly had still built-up snow on it. "Temperature is a balmy 24 degrees," he commented, seeing the number on the digital display in front of him.

"It'll probably feel good," Cara remarked softly. "I'm feeling a little stuffy, myself."

"Here, I'll turn down the heat-"

"It's okay, I'll get it-"

Wesson nearly jumped when Cara's hand collided with his, the warmth from her skin penetrating deep into his body. She froze, withdrawing her hand quickly after a moment of shocked stillness at the sensation of his skin under her fingers. _Holy shit, _she thought in a panic. _I love Will. I love Will, _she said to herself silently. And she did. Still, she felt the guilt growing rapidly, knowing that though her heart was Will's, there was an undeniable chemistry between her and Wesson.

When they each withdrew their hands, Cara and Wesson remained silent and focused on the road ahead of them, neither seeming to want to address the obvious connection they both felt from the contact. Cara was more than relieved when she saw a small cabin-like building ahead, and hoped the car would stop fast enough so she could flee the growing tension.

As Wesson parked the car, he reached behind him and handed Cara a small duffel bag. "I packed some boots, as well as a hat and gloves." He didn't make eye contact with her; instead, he slipped out of the car, shutting his door as he opened the one directly behind it, popping the clip back into his gun that he tossed on the floor behind him earlier. "Your P238 is in the pocket, along with a few clips," he added, still refusing to look in her direction as Cara changed her shoes.

Cara retrieved her gun, grateful to feel the coolness of it in her hand. It represented security, and she needed that now more than ever. She tucked it carefully into her waistband under her sweater, shivering as it came in contact with her warm skin. Rezipping her coat and adding a hat and gloves, she stepped out onto the crisp, white snow into the frigid mountain air. Cara tossed her bag in the back seat, and Wesson clicked the lock button on his key fob as they approached the lodge.

The scent of fresh pancakes and bacon assaulted Cara's nose as they entered, and her stomach rejoiced, performing cartwheels that made her incredibly nauseous. "Can you order for me?" she quickly asked Wesson, feeling the need to escape to the bathroom.

"Sure, what do you want?" he asked.

"Anything, as long as it comes with bacon."

"Alright," Wesson said, watching Cara quickly disappear into the area of the restrooms, feeling guilty for his lingering gaze.

* * *

Cara breathed deeply as she examined her damp face in the mirror, water droplets still present after drying her face from the cold water she splashed on it in the lodge bathroom. She touched her cheeks gently, seeing the rosyness they held and the heat they emitted. She felt warm - too warm. She tore off her coat, still trying to calm her nerves through deep breaths. She didn't feel normal. She hadn't felt normal for a while now. Had her fear for Will consumed her so much that it was making her physically ill? It made sense to her; she hadn't rested since she last felt his lips pressed against hers. She kept running a race that seemed to be taking place on a conveyor belt, the effort she put forth not rewarded with distance covered to bring her closer to the finish.

She needed to relax. She needed to rest. _I can't, _she thought, staring at herself. She saw how her dark hair framed her face, and remembered how Will initially reacted when he saw her color change for the first time. It was like he was looking at a completely different person, the lust evident in his eyes. She now knew he was, in some ways - this version of Cara had crossed the lines of friendship into something much deeper, something that consumed them both, something that was now being challenged by the electricity she felt with Wesson. "I love Will," she whispered to herself in the mirror, watching how her mouth moved as she said the words.

After a moment, Cara was grateful no one else was in the bathroom or had come in, sensing the ridiculousness of her pep-talk in the mirror. She breathed deeply, still examining her face. She jumped when she heard the bathroom door open suddenly, banging her hands into the metal shelf under the mirror above the sink, knocking the hand soap bottle onto the floor. Cara scrambled toward the bottle, and as she picked it up and stood, she saw an elderly woman watching her in curiosity. She tried to laugh off her guilt and embarrassment as she replaced the soap awkwardly. "Hormones," she commented, attempting to explain her irrational behavior to the woman, who gave her a confused smile and nodded at her as she slipped out the door.

_Hormones? _she thought, perplexed at her choice of excuse. _What the hell were you thinking? _She sighed, grateful to be out of sight of the woman, carrying her coat in her arms as she headed toward Wesson, who sat in a small booth alone, sipping a cup of coffee.

_Hormones … hormones … _The word seemed to ring in her head with every step she took, and related thoughts began to consume her. _What is today's date? When did I last take my pills? Did I even order them recently?_

"Cara?"

"What?" Cara snapped, which surprised even herself. "Sorry," she quickly said. "I was just thinking … What is today's date?"

"The fifteenth. Why?" Wesson's eyes narrowed at Cara, who now sat across from him.

"Just curious," Cara mumbled, lifting the coffee cup that was waiting on the table for her to her lips. _The fifthteenth … the fifthteenth … the fifthteenth … That would mean I'm going to get a visit from the Devil Woman herself any day now. Perfect. Bet Wesson didn't pack anything for that._

"It won't be necessary."

Both Wesson and Cara turned quickly to the voice that came from the young man who now stood beside them at their booth. Cara set her cup down, examining him. "What won't be?" Wesson asked, confused. He looked carefully at the young man with dirty blonde hair who was short in stature and was wearing civilian clothing, his glasses resting on the curve of his small nose. "And who are you?" he added, obviously still perplexed.

"She knows," the young man said, his eyes falling on Cara, whose lips parted as he stared at her.

"Actually, I don't," she replied.

"You're lying," the young man said, watching Cara closely.

"Hey listen," Wesson said, standing and stepping in toward the young man, "I don't know who you are, but I'd advise you not to eavesdrop on people or accuse them of lying."

"I'm not accusing her of anything. She _is _lying."

"Listen-" Wesson began.

"Wait," Cara said, her face still displaying the shock she felt at the sight of the young man. Wesson glanced over at Cara, who continued to examine the young man's face as the young man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. She felt a stir inside of her that scared her and excited her all at same time. "Is your name Gibson Praise?"

Gibson Praise nodded. "Yes."

Wesson slumped back down in his seat, feeling his confusion defeating him. "How the hell do you know this kid?" he asked. "We're five hours away from your home, in a remote lodge in the mountains!"

_I don't know, _Cara thought.

_Yes, you do, _Gibson responded in his mind.

"Holy shit!" Cara whispered.

"You really should watch your mouth," Gibson commented. "It won't be appropriate soon anyway."

Wesson rubbed his eyes. "What in the hell are you talking about?" he asked, baffled.

"She knows," Gibson replied, his eyes falling back on Cara. Her mouth opened wider.

"I do not!" she replied.

"You're lying," Gibson said calmly.

"Alright!" Wesson stood up and grabbed Gibson's arm, pulling him near him. "Enough of this," he said softly, but firmly. "I'm not playing games. Now how do you know her?"

"It's not her I know," Gibson replied, feeling nervous under Wesson's firm grasp.

"You just called her a liar for saying she didn't know you!"

"I know part of her."

"_Part _of her?" Wesson was losing his patience.

Gibson nodded. "I know the baby she's carrying."


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Cara felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She knew she wasn't breathing as she stared at Gibson, her mouth wide open as she processed what he had just said.

"Wait, what?!" Wesson nearly yelled, his eyes wide as he turned to Cara.

Cara shook her head at Wesson, still shocked. "I have no clue what he's talking about!"

"She's lying," Gibson said matter-of-factly, looking at Cara, whose mouth dropped open even more.

"Alright, that's it!" Wesson grabbed Gibson's arm as he stood. His eyes fell on Cara. "Outside. Now." He needed to ask questions that he wasn't sure could be asked, feeling the attention in the lodge turning to them from the other patrons there.

Once Wesson, Gibson and Cara were outside in the parking lot, Wesson hunched over, his hand still on Gibson's arm. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice low.

"Gibson Praise," Gibson answered, looking into Wesson's eyes. "And you're Brody Wesson. You're a Shield. So is she. Her name is Caraline English."

"Who do you work for?" Wesson demanded.

"Wesson!" The urgency in Cara's voice made Wesson stop; he looked up at her, still confused. "He's an ally."

"How do you know?" Wesson asked Cara.

"John Doggett told me about him," she explained. "He's … a very special person." She looked at Wesson's strong hand still gripping Gibson's small arm, catching some of the male patrons standing near the door, watching the scene unfold. "Let him go," Cara whispered. "You're making a scene."

Wesson released Gibson, but he wasn't satisfied. "I'm making a scene?" he asked, dumbfounded. "This kid just said you're pregnant!" Wesson straightened up, searching Cara's eyes. "Are you?" he asked softly, feeling close to speechless.

She wanted to scream that she didn't know, that she had no idea she was … except, the instant Gibson looked at her, she knew she was. She was pregnant. She was carrying a child. And not just any child - she was carrying Will's child, the child of The Savior himself.

She knew her silence was driving Wesson insane, and she felt Gibson's eyes tearing a hole through her mind, something she had never experienced before.

_Stop! _she thought, hating the feeling of Gibson in her head.

_I can't, _was his silent reply.

_Why not?_

_Because of the baby. It's talking to me._

"Wait, what?!" Cara exclaimed, staring down at Gibson.

"How about we answer my question first!" Wesson said, turning Cara back to him. "Are you pregnant?"

Cara stared at Wesson, her lips parted to prepare for the response to his question. Yet for moments, there was only silence as she tried to understand how she now knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, with no medical test taken, that she was pregnant. "Yes," she whispered, shocking even herself.

"And you didn't want to tell me that bit of vital information before we decided to go on this excursion?" Wesson asked, his voice in a low, hoarse whisper.

"I didn't know … until …"

"Until when?"

"Until … I saw him." Cara looked down at Gibson, who was standing between them, watching them intently.

Wesson shook his head. "Why would seeing … _him_ … let you know you were _pregnant_?"

"I can't explain it," Cara replied, looking into Gibson's eyes. "It just did."

Wesson ran his hands over his face, stunned. "Alright," he said, resigning himself to defeat under the unexplainable. "Come on," he said to Gibson, "you're with us. You've got some explaining to do."

The three walked back into the lodge, dodging curious looks from the staff and other patrons as they slipped back into their booth. Wesson became concerned as he sat across from Cara; her face was pale, and she looked like she was definitely in shock. "Cara," Wesson said, "drink some water." He handed her the glass that had sat on the table, pushing the straw to her mouth. She accepted it and drank, her mind still reeling over what she just discovered. _I'm pregnant. I'm carrying a child. I'm pregnant with Will's child. _

"Eat," Wesson ordered gently, handing Cara a piece of bread from the basket on the table. She chewed it slowly, her eyes still fixed on the area of the tabletop in front of her. Wesson turned his attention to Gibson. "Alright, no games. I want everything. Your name, why you're here, your whole damn life story. I want to know everything you know and I want to know it now."

"You'll never know everything I know," Gibson murmured.

"Kid, you're driving me insane," Wesson grumbled.

"His name is Gibson Praise," Cara said softly, her eyes falling on Gibson. "He's … he … can read people's minds. And he …"

_Don't avoid it, _she heard Gibson say to her in her mind.

"He carries alien DNA," she added even more softly. Cara swallowed the piece of bread she quickly chewed, feeling her stomach lurch with nausea. "He represents the only definitive proof that aliens exist," she whispered.

Wesson inhaled deeply, leaning back against the booth. "Alright … so why are you here?" he asked Gibson.

"It told me to come," Gibson replied, looking at Wesson.

"It?"

"The baby."

Cara's hand immediately touched her abdomen. "Gibson," Wesson said softly, "if Cara _is_ pregnant, and she just found out she was, the baby would be no bigger than a sesame seed." He narrowed his eyes at Gibson. "Do you know how big that is?"

"Yes," Gibson said firmly, his gaze on Wesson.

"Then … how do you think, even if you can read minds, that a baby that is the size of a sesame seed can talk to you?"

"Because it's his," Gibson stated. "It's William's child." Cara heard herself swallow, her hand still pressed against her stomach. "And William is the same as me." Gibson's eyes shifted back to Cara. "It told me William needs help. William's father once needed my help in the same way. Then I went into hiding."

"What can you do for William, Gibson?" Wesson asked, trying to be patient as his thoughts spun out of control.

"I can testify," Gibson said. "I can show them that William is fighting something people can't see. And I can show them that through me."

"Through your DNA …" Cara's voice was soft; Wesson looked at her, his concern for her peaking when he saw her paleness hadn't left her face.

"Cara, please eat," Wesson pleaded as the waitress delivered two large plates of food. He pushed it toward her, hoping she would comply. He knew she was still in a state of shock, and he had to make sure she would take care of herself, should she truly be pregnant. In that moment, he remembered how he pushed and shoved her and instantly felt horrible. "God, I'm sorry," Wesson said to Cara.

She knew he was referring to the night before. "It's okay," she murmured, trying to remember how to chew the food that she put into her mouth. She felt paralyzed.

Wesson watched as Cara slowly ate, and saw Gibson now eating a piece of bacon off of his plate. He knew things just got a lot more complicated, now that Gibson had entered the picture. "Gibson," he said softly, "can they read your mind?"

"Not that I know of," Gibson replied, starting to eat another piece of bacon.

"Okay …" Wesson relaxed a little - their location was still safe, or so he hoped. "Can you read my mind?"

"No. I can't read the minds of Shields. No one can."

"Then how are you reading Cara's mind?"

"Because the baby is like William, so I can communicate with the baby. And because the baby is part of her …"

"You can read her mind."

"Yes."

Wesson's eyes fell back onto Cara, who looked like some of the color had been restored to her face. "Where were you hiding, Gibson?"

"With Mr. Skinner."

"Walter Skinner?" Cara asked, surprising Wesson as she made the connection.

"Yes. He's coming inside now."

Wesson and Cara quickly looked up from Gibson to see a tall, built man with round glasses approaching their booth. He looked like he was former military, the way he carried himself. "Gibson?" Walter Skinner asked, glancing at Wesson and Cara.

"It's okay," Gibson assured him while eating a piece of toast. "They are who I was looking for."

Skinner's eyes fell on Wesson first, then Cara; he examined Cara's face a little longer than made Wesson comfortable. "And you are?" he asked.

"Wait," Wesson said, standing up to Skinner, "why don't you tell us a bit about yourself first?" His mind was running on overdrive, hoping these two people who bombarded them weren't out to kill them.

"Walter Skinner," Skinner said reluctantly, holding Wesson's stare. "Former FBI."

"You were Mulder and Scully's boss, right?" Cara asked.

"Yes," Skinner said, looking down at her. "How do you know Mulder and Scully?"

"I was partners with Will Van De Kamp in the Hoboken Police," she continued, feeling Wesson's disapproving look on her.

Skinner put his hands on his hips. "...William Van De Kamp?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"William Van De Kamp is now ten years old," Skinner said softly, eyeing Cara. He grabbed Gibson's arm, pulling him to stand. "You're lying."

"No," Cara said, "I'm not."

"She's not," Gibson agreed, much to Skinner's surprise.

"How … how is that even possible?" Skinner asked, confused.

"It's a long story," Cara replied.

Skinner looked over his shoulder, then back at the rest of the people at the table. "What do you say we continue this story somewhere else then?" he asked softly.

"Hold on," Wesson said. "We're not going anywhere with you people." He pulled Cara to stand, pushing him behind her.

"Wesson-"

"No," Wesson interrupted Cara. "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

"You don't," Skinner said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And the same goes for you two."

Skinner and Wesson eyed each other, each unsure of what to make of the other. Gibson looked at Cara intently, seeing her hand lingering over her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick," Cara whispered, and she turned for the door.

Wesson dug out his wallet and threw more than enough cash on the table to cover the food and drinks they bought, plus tip, and bolted out of the lodge door after Cara. His boots crunched in the cold snow as he rushed toward her; she was crouched near the treeline of the surrounding woods, holding her hair away from her face. As he reached her, he grimaced as she vomited, trying to hold back his queasiness from the sight. "Hey," he said, coming down to her level, "you okay?"

Her eyes were shut as she breathed heavily, trying to settle her stomach. "Yeah," she managed, now embarrassed at the scene she had made. "I don't think the baby likes bacon."

Wesson picked up on her discomfort, helping her to stand. "Hey, it's okay," he assured as he kicked some snow over the discarded breakfast. "You just need to rest. Let's get you in the car."

"No," Cara said, pushing herself out of Wesson's arms. "We need to talk to Gibson!" She turned to head back to where she saw Skinner and Gibson in the distance watching them.

"Cara," Wesson pulled her gently back to him, "we don't know if those people are who they say they are."

"I do know," Cara replied, looking in Wesson's eyes. "I'm sure of it."

With a sigh, Wesson looked up toward Gibson and Skinner, then back down to Cara. "Stay here," he said, moving toward Skinner and Gibson.

"No," she said firmly. "I'm with you, remember?"

"Then ... at least stay behind me," Wesson ordered softly.

Once they reached Skinner and Gibson, Wesson eyed Skinner closely. "Alright," he said, regretting the decision but trusting Cara, "you follow us. The sign said there's a motel just down the street."

Skinner nodded slowly, his eyes falling on Cara. "Okay," he said, taking Gibson's arm. "Come on, Gibson." Wesson watched as they made their way to Skinner's car, then guided Cara to his.

* * *

A short while later, Wesson pulled the car into the mountain motel parking lot, feeling like he was making a mistake by trusting these two people that Cara somehow seemed to know. He then remembered how she had trusted him to get her this far despite the aggressive and hostile show he put on last night, and decided it was only fair to give her the same trust regarding Gibson and Skinner. "Shit," he mumbled with realization as he parked the car.

"What?" Cara asked, coming out of her shocked daze she fell into during the short commute.

"If Skinner is human, then they know where we are now."

Cara closed her eyes. "We might never find the compound."

"We've got to get moving."

"But what about Gibson?"

Wesson sighed. Cara was right - Gibson, if he was who he said he was, would be just as valuable of evidence for Will's case as anything they recovered from the abandoned compound. "We have to find that compound, Cara!"

"Then they come with us," Cara concluded.

"How do we know we can trust them?"

"I … I just know."

Wesson rubbed his temples, wrestling with his logic and Cara's seemingly definitive belief in the two people they just met. "Alright. We have no choice."

They exited the car, seeing Skinner and Gibson outside waiting for them. Within a few minutes' time, they had a room paid for and were gathered inside of it, Wesson shutting the door behind them all. He took out his gun, holding it up. "I'm keeping this on me," he said, tucking it back into his holster.

"She is armed, too," Gibson said to Skinner, who nodded.

"Then that makes three of us," Skinner said, eyeing Wesson as the two groups faced each other.

Skinner and Gibson sank onto the bed while Cara sat in a well-cushioned chair across from them. Wesson opted to stand, feeling more secure that way. "So you've come out of hiding to vouch for William?" Wesson recapped, looking down at Gibson.

"Yes," he said calmly. "I know you are looking for the compound. I know where it is. I can take you there."

"You understand your life is at risk, Gibson?" Wesson knew Gibson wasn't terribly young, but he still felt a need to remind this small, young man of what he knew they were up against.

"I understand." Gibson paused. "They are part of the Shield Project," Gibson said confidently to Skinner, knowing he wanted an explanation. "Brody Wesson and Caraline English. Brody tested a development serum that was given to William to age him so he could be prepared to battle."

"The Shield Project?" Skinner asked. "That … that was destroyed years ago." He looked from Cara to Wesson, then back to Cara. "You're Shields?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Gibson answered. "Caraline is the most powerful Shield that ever was created."

Skinner swallowed; he was shocked. "None of the Shields were said to have survived," he murmured. "I guess that was yet another lie."

"There's plenty of us," Wesson said, starting to feel a little bit more comfortable with Skinner. "They just wanted us swept under the rug."

"And … you were administered the Development Serum?" Skinner asked. "And you survived?"

"I was the second person to test it," Wesson explained. "My brother was the first. He didn't survive it. William came after."

"And …" Skinner turned to Cara. "Your entire genetic makeup …" He was baffled at the idea of sitting across from these two people who were said to not exist.

"Was changed," Cara whispered.

"So then … you're saying William Van De Kamp was administered the Development Serum?"

"Yes," Wesson answered. "He should be about twenty-five now."

Skinner leaned back, shaking his head as he absorbed the information. "So it _is _the same William Van De Kamp from the news."

"Yes. He was set up. He's innocent. That's why we're trying to find evidence of what he was trying to protect, and of what they're planning on doing."

"The compound might not be there," Skinner said softly with a frown.

"We've got to try."

Skinner nodded. "Are you in contact with Mulder and Scully?"

Wesson shook his head, sighing. "No … we were trying to prevent our location from being found to keep Cara safe."

Skinner shut his eyes in sudden realization. "Me," he said, knowing the Colonists would now have an idea of where they were because of him being there. "So that's why they haven't been after Gibson lately. They've got bigger fish to fry."

Cara's mind was running through the implications of her pregnancy as she sat in silence. If the child she carried shared both Will's DNA and her DNA, the child would be the most powerful creation on earth, should it possess Will's strength and her Shield. She immediately locked eyes with Gibson, screaming in her mind, hoping he would realize quickly. _Have you told Skinner I'm pregnant? Have you?!_

_No, _she heard Gibson reply calmly in her mind. _I know the power the child has. That's why I'm here, too._

_Don't tell him I'm pregnant. Don't tell him. Don't tell anyone. The baby isn't safe if a human knows. Don't tell anyone._

_I won't._

"Then that means we don't have much time," Skinner said; his face bore the regret he felt from his presence in the room. "Gibson, can you get us there quickly?"

"Yes," Gibson said with a nod.

"Alright … Brody, is it?" Skinner asked, nodding to Wesson.

"Wesson will do fine," he replied.

"Okay, Wesson … now I heard rumors of how they tried to use memory removal on the children that were tested. Is that true?"

Wesson nodded. "Only some of us went through that." He tilted his head to Cara. "It was to protect the strongest ones. But I wasn't a very good Shield. I'm not as resistant to Purity like Cara is. So I got to keep my memories." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But we don't have much time left now. I betrayed the Colonists who were blackmailing me. They'll be after us very soon."

Skinner stood, Gibson following suit. Cara inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she stood. She felt the heat and electricity from Wesson's touch on her hands as he held them to steady her. "Easy," he said softly, his concern growing for her well-being. "You shouldn't do this," he said softly to her, realizing how she was in jeopardy.

"I have to," Cara whispered, meeting Wesson's eyes with her own.

"I know," he replied softly. He turned to Skinner. "You lead the way," he said, nodding to Gibson.

Skinner and Wesson headed for the door, but Cara lingered, taking Gibson's arm. "We'll be out in a minute," she said to Wesson. "I just want to ask him something."

"I'll wait," Skinner said, looking at Cara with confusion.

"No," Cara said sharply. "No. In private."

Skinner looked into Cara's eyes; he saw they were glassy from tears that were forming. "Alright," he said, slipping out of the door behind Wesson.

Cara grabbed Gibson; there was so much urgency in her that she could barely keep herself contained. "Gibson," she said quickly once they were alone, "you said it was talking to you. What … what is it saying?"

Gibson peered into Cara's eyes. "It says that you shouldn't be afraid. It says that … it's a part of William with you now."

Cara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to regulate her breathing as a tear escaped her eye. Gibson watched her with a blank expression, hearing the barrage of thoughts that flooded into Cara's mind. "Do you know … if it's a boy or a girl?"

"No," Gibson replied. "But it is special. And it loves you. And William."

Cara's fists tightened beside her as she tried to calm herself, feeling an overwhelming sense of shock and panic attack her from Gibson's matter-of-fact words. In silence, she fled from the room, Gibson following a bit behind her, giving her the space he knew she needed to deal with the various emotions that he heard running through her mind.

* * *

Cara's Apartment  
10:13 A.M.

"Scully, come take a look at this."

Scully walked into Cara's bedroom where she saw Mulder standing next to an open drawer of Cara's bureau across from her bed. They had gone back to the apartment in an attempt to figure out a location of where Cara and Wesson would have gone, though Scully wasn't entirely sure if anything would turn up. Her brow raised slowly as she saw Mulder rummaging through Cara's drawers. "Mulder," she said, stepping near him, "what are you doing?"

"Look, Scully," Mulder said, ushering her over to him. "It's February, right?" he asked. "It's colder than a witch's … well, you know. Anyway, take a look at this." Scully peered down at what Mulder showed her as he slid open all of Cara's drawers. "There's two sweaters in her bureau. The rest are tee shirts."

"And this is important … how?"

"Humor me, Scully," Mulder said, eyeing her. "So, it's the middle of February on the east coast, averaging around twenty-five to thirty degrees fahrenheit for a high. Why don't you have more sweaters?" Before Scully could interrupt, Mulder crossed toward the bathroom. "And in your hamper, there's only towels? And …" She followed him as he made his way to the small closet where Cara's stacking washer and dryer was. "...and you have a highly-covetable washer and dryer unit _inside_ your apartment, which means that you're _not_ taking your clothes to the laundromat, which would mean that whatever is in your hamper is whatever is unaccounted for in the drawers." Mulder turned, searching Scully's eyes. "You with me?"

"Are you really getting hung up on the fact that Cara might not own a lot of sweaters?" Scully asked with a frown.

"Come on, Scully," Mulder said, "I think you've been playing doctor too long. Although," he leaned into her, "I would never argue with the introduction of a sexy doctor costume in your wardrobe."

"Mulder …"

"Scully, someone packed a bag," Mulder explained, gesturing to the opened drawers. "And I think that someone was Wesson." Mulder took Scully's arm, bringing her back to the drawers. "Look. It doesn't add up. What woman do you know owns that little underwear?"

Scully reluctantly peered into the drawer with Cara's unmentionables. "Considering our son's relationship with her, I'd say this feels pretty inappropriate," Scully mumbled, counting only three pairs of panties, knowing Mulder was right.

"Nothing's waiting in the wash, either."

"Alright," Scully said, her hands on her hips as she faced Mulder, "so he was trying to bring her somewhere. But where?"

She watched as Mulder crouched on the floor and continued to sift through Cara's belongings in her closet in the bedroom. "No snowboots in here," he commented. "Living on the east coast, you need winter snowboots."

"So somewhere with snow," Scully said, focusing on the bits of information that were a puzzle that was challenging her to be put together. "Mulder, in her session she mentioned evergreen trees."

"And a body of water that looked like glass," Mulder added, standing as he thought.

"Could be anywhere, really," Scully noted with disappointment.

"Glass, Scully … water that looks like glass." She knew he was thinking aloud, which often helped him to connect the dots that needed connecting. "If you can see hundreds of evergreen trees AND water, you'd have to be at a higher elevation."

"Mountains?"

"The Adirondacks."

"Wait, how do you know?" Scully interrupted.

Mulder pulled out his phone, typing a few words into the search bar on the internet, holding out a photograph after a few moments. "Mirror Lake, Scully," he said with a smile.

"Water like glass," Scully said with a nod.

"And the Adirondacks has a high concentration of magnetite deposits."

"Stone walls ... So they think the compound was there?"

"Wesson does at least. He packed Cara accordingly."

"Mulder, you really think he's interested in protecting her?" Scully's expression was one of doubt. "I mean, if he is a Shield, too … what's to stop him from using her as leverage to save himself?"

"If his motive was a barter, then he went to great lengths to ensure Cara would be well-outfitted in the afterlife," Mulder replied, nodding to the drawers.

Scully knew he had a point. "Still, how can we trust him when he took her by force?"

"It was a farce, Scully," Mulder reminded her gently of his theory. "He wanted to protect their trip, and probably us."

"Why would he care about protecting their location, Mulder? If Shields' minds can't be read by anyone, and they can't be tracked, then why the show?" She paused.

"He's being blackmailed," Mulder concluded after a moment of silence.

"Come again?"

"He's suppose to retrieve Cara for the Colonists to save himself, but instead is attempting to protect her. By making us think she was in danger, he bought them time and safety."

"Mulder, it's a stretch …"

Mulder nodded. "I know. But it's all we've got right now."


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

ADX Florence  
10:01 A.M. MST

"Van De Kamp! Armed guards in!"

Will didn't move from his back as he lay on the concrete slab bed, staring up at the ceiling in deep, destructive thought over Cara's disappearance. His wrists and ankles were still bound; he felt much like a corpse lying on the bed, his hands resting on his stomach, feeling the way his abdomen rose and fell with each breath.

After he decided to do his best to stop being an asshole for Doggett and Reyes, he was able to be prepped by them for his inevitable trial, which was rumored to be still over a month away. His lawyer, who he met with for the first time, joined Doggett in the room - Reyes couldn't remain with him, and had to leave due to the two-person-max allowed in the visiting room. Will pondered over the frightened thoughts he read in Reyes' mind as she left, though by doing so, he violated a promise he had made to himself to not use his powers in such a way. Yet, her fears were as clear as the skies he once was able to see through the cage of the penitentiary "swimming pool" where he was allowed an hour of recreation per day once before. Not anymore - the warden had seen to it that every basic right was removed from him, including exercise time and freedom from restraints. He didn't even have the automatically-timed shower his first cell had, forcing him to remain in his sweat and blood-ladened clothes until the warden determined he was worthy to shower in front of armed guards. It was only for this particular reason that he was grateful for the thick plexiglass that separated him from any visitors he had, knowing the glass spared them his bodily stench from lack of hygiene.

Reyes' fears were that Will, no matter how much she and the others believed in him, was being used as a Christ-like figure for the Colonists, except without the evident innocence of the Holy One. They muddied the media waters with rumors and loose "facts" of his personality and life, strewn together in a chain of deception designed to enrage the public, enough to maybe even cause them to shout "crucify him" as they formed their opinions safely behind television screens.

Will knew he hadn't helped himself with his outburst the other day, taking note of how the guards snickered as they passed, talking about him as though he weren't there. They would comment on how political figures had taken such a strong stance against Will, and rightfully so. If it were up to them, they'd save the public the tax dollars and trouble and open a firing squad on him on their lunch break. He also managed to hear bits and pieces of the now popular coverage of Cara's disappearance, the guards saying that somehow, Will was working with someone on the outside, or perhaps even had an accomplice he was protecting.

Only once had Will had the distinct pleasure of sitting across from the man who would prosecute him, luckily before his outburst, as he grilled him, trying to drive the nails into Will's hands on the crucifix himself. Will remained absolutely silent, allowing his lawyer to be his voice. He was too busy reading the prosecutor's mind, anyway, seeing among the strength of his belief in Will's guilt the tiny glimmer he held of his innocence. _At least he's honest, _Will had thought, finding an ounce of respect for a lawyer who, should he win this high-profile slam-dunk case, would be elevated into a status worthy of perhaps more than eight figures. At least he had a shred of belief in Will's humanity left in him.

As Will heard the guards enter his room, he continued to stare up at the ceiling, wondering what had triggered their presence. There were only a few possibilities, and they all seemed plausible. Either it was now time for the peep-show shower he desperately needed, his lawyer was back for some unknown reason, or the guards had finally decided to go through with their personal execution plot. He closed his eyes, seeing nothing but darkness and listened to the barking of the retrievers around him.

"Up, Van De Kamp. Now!"

"I was enjoying a nap," Will said dryly, still laying on his back.

"UP!"

Will sat up slowly, using his abs to propel him forward, as his hands were still bound in front of him. He turned and looked at the guard in front of him, absorbing his thoughts quickly. He smiled a little in response, deciding he was tired of playing the role of mouse in their game. "Don't worry," he said softly, "I won't tell the others you feel empathy for me."

The guard's eyes widened, a feeling of violation washing over him as he took in Will's response to his unspoken words. Will smiled, looking down as he stood, knowing he struck a chord with the guard. "Move," the guard said, trying to snap back into his role of the cat in the game. "The warden would like a chat with you."

_Shit, _Will thought. He remained expressionless, following the guards as they pulled, beat and shoved him out of his cell and down the walk to the visiting room. Once there, he was chained again to the pole - this time, no chair in sight - and he pressed his head against the concrete and swallowed, hoping his saliva would quench his thirst. His throat was dry; he hadn't had water in well over fifteen hours, or much else in nourishment in the last twenty-four.

He didn't look up as the warden entered on the other side of the plexiglass - he had no need to. The warden's thoughts preceded him, ringing through Will's head before he even saw the man. He knew why he was here, and what he would say, and it terrified him. They would be bumping up his trial to one week from now, instead of the minimum of four weeks originally planned. He knew the last few weeks of his life played like a suspense movie to the people, and he figured they wanted to fast forward to the climactic action section. _Get the popcorn, because it's showtime, _Will thought with a feeling of nervousness he hadn't experienced before this moment.

"You're quite popular, Van De Kamp," the warden said, standing in front of the plexiglass with his hands on his hips. "So much so, that it's been requested from very high up that we deal with you sooner rather than later." Will saw the warden's smug smile as he slowly looked up from the pole he had leaned his head on, peering into the warden's eyes with a blank expression. "Personally," the warden said, stepping close to the glass, "I can't wait to see the show myself." Will watched as the warden moved in closer, knowing though he felt secure with the thick glass between them, the warden was still afraid of what Will was capable of. "Your lawyer will be coming to see you in two days. The trial begins in one week, so we'll allow you to have visitors outside of your legal representation and the federal agents responsible for you after your lawyer sees you. Though, I'm not sure you've got anyone who would want to visit your sorry ass for social reasons rather than to kill you themselves."

The warden crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed with the lack of reaction he was receiving from Will. Though he was grateful he wasn't the subject of his rage, his desire had been to provoke Will, now seeing he had failed to do so. "You'll get to shower in two days after your visit from your lawyer. Enjoy it, princess. It'll probably be the last time you get one."

Will's eyes followed the warden as he left, his breaths deep and even as he allowed the information to sink into his mind. _Visitors, _he thought. _One of the only people I want to see is gone. Hopefully, the only other two are looking for her._

* * *

12:49 P.M. EST

Skinner paused on the graded mountain trail he had been following Wesson and Cara on, Gibson now coming to his side as he took a moment to gather oxygen into his lungs. The coldness of the winter wind burned him as it filled him, his feet shifting in the snow underneath him to steady himself on the natural angle he was standing on. He felt Gibson watching him, catching the young man push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a gloved finger. "Come on," Skinner said, seeing Wesson and Cara still pushing forward without them. Gibson followed him, processing the thoughts he had taken in from Skinner's mind.

"It's different, this time," Gibson said quietly, responding to the words Skinner hadn't spoken.

"How so?" Skinner asked. He had become used to Gibson's forwardness of interacting with his personal thoughts. Skinner had spent many years with Gibson, keeping him safe while he told everyone he was in sunny Bermuda enjoying retirement from the bureau. He had grown fond of Gibson, enjoying his ever-perceptive company as they continued to dodge the evils Skinner thought Mulder's exoneration had resolved.

"William is innocent," Gibson replied, "but he can never be exonerated."

"I wouldn't think so," Skinner remarked, knowing how special Will was as a child, let alone as a grown man who had not only survived a complete and invasive transformation, but flourished in it.

"He will have to choose," Gibson continued, tossing a stick he had swooped down to grab a while back. "He can't have both."

"Both what?"

"Both a family and power."

"The power to save the people, you mean?"

"Yes."

Skinner's eyes narrowed as he looked ahead, Cara catching his eyes as she almost elegantly trekked through the snow. "What is Wesson's story?"

"He's good," Gibson remarked. "He wants to help. He cares a lot for Caraline."

"And Caraline?"

"She is William's best friend."

Skinner continued to watch Cara ahead of them, recalling the many times he had been on similar quests with Scully on Mulder's behalf, understanding the depth of Cara's and Will's relationship.

They caught up to Wesson and Cara, who were stopped, Wesson holding a compass in front of him as he took in his surroundings. "Alright, Gibson," Wesson said, nodding toward the two obvious routes created through the underbrush, "which way? Northwest or Northeast?"

Gibson looked at the divergence in the trail for a moment before responding, "Northwest."

"You sure?" Wesson checked, putting his compass away.

"Yes," Gibson replied with a nod.

"Northwest it is."

The four continued to scale the grade, though Cara had noticeably fallen behind. Wesson allowed Skinner and Gibson to move ahead of them, though Gibson lingered near Wesson as he watched Cara stop as she chewed on her bottom lip. "Hey, English," Wesson said, moving quickly toward her with a smile that was an attempt to cheer her up, using her last name to recall their first meeting with each other. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Cara replied, trying to push away the nausea she felt.

"You shouldn't be doing this," Wesson whispered.

"You know I have to," she whispered back.

"You need to rest. You're risking yourself and the baby."

"I can't rest without drawing attention," Cara said, quickly glancing ahead to Skinner.

"Then I'll call for a rations break," Wesson said. "At the next level plain we reach."

Cara nodded, knowing Wesson was right in that she needed to rest. "Okay," she whispered, turning to continue up the snow-covered grade. As she nearly slipped, losing her footing for a moment, Wesson's long arms immediately caught her, wrapping securely around her coat-covered waist.

"Whoa, easy," he said softly, his body pressed closely against Cara's as he stabilized her. She turned in his arms, feeling his soft breath on her face as he held her firmly yet gingerly around her waist. "You okay?" he whispered, trying to ignore the intoxicating mix of citrus, floral and vanilla he smelled on her skin by being so close. He also tried to ignore the vivid clearness of her eyes as they locked on his face.

She found herself lost in his eyes; the intensity of his gaze was exhilarating and frightening, and she couldn't help but notice the fullness of his lips resting near his strong jaw. "I'm fine," she said quickly, roughly pulling herself out of Wesson's embrace, determined to move as far away from him as she could. She almost felt like she couldn't escape the electricity his hands had caused; she felt his heated touch even through his thick gloves and her warm, insulated coat, and it terrified her.

Wesson went to follow, but was stopped by Gibson. "She's okay," Gibson said. "She's just scared."

"I am, too," Wesson murmured, thinking about how valuable a child shared by William, the Savior, and Cara, the ultimate Shield, would be to the Colonists. Too valuable.

"She's scared because of what she feels for you," Gibson divulged, looking up at Wesson carefully.

"Wait, what?" Wesson wasn't expecting that.

"She feels your connection," Gibson continued. "She's attracted to it. But she's also scared by it."

"My connection?"

"The Shields were designed to procreate with each other, like any other species, hence why there is such a connection between you and Caraline. But her heart longs for William. He wasn't meant to have a mate, though they wanted him to when they made him. Caraline's father knew William couldn't have a family. He knew they will die if he does."

Wesson's heart stopped, letting Gibson's words sink into his mind as he watched Cara continue ahead. He knew there would be a battle ahead for her, but now he feared the choices that would have to be made, knowing the responsibility that came with them was far beyond a magnitude he would ever want for her.


	12. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

2:17 P.M. EST

The hike up had been long, though Wesson had worked in several breaks for Cara's sake while covering for her as to reason, which made it longer than it should have. He was fairly confident that Skinner didn't suspect anything, trusting Gibson to realize the power of the secret they knew and keep it to himself. He felt a certain sinking feeling in his gut when he saw a white building shrouded by a dark wall with overgrown vines running over it in the distance. "There," he said calmly, feeling the memories seep with clarity into his present state.

Cara moved next to him, peering over to where Wesson had pointed. Her mouth opened as she took in the scene. It made no sense to her - a building with obvious purpose, sitting in the elevated valley range, seemingly undisturbed by anyone. Wouldn't people question it? Wouldn't people be curious, should they happen upon it on a leisurely hike through the preserved range? Why hasn't a pilot ever reported its existence, with it being so clearly visible, she imagined, from the skies above? Were people that content to follow a government blindly throughout life without ever asking what was going on right in their own backyard?

"The people don't believe," Gibson remarked quietly in response to Cara's thoughts. "That is why William is so important to them. If people really knew him, they would believe."

"And they would fight for freedom," Cara concluded, freshly re-realizing Will's significant role.

"Come on," Wesson said, "we don't have much time."

The four carefully descended into the leveled portion of the mountain range they had trekked up, the elevation they were at still high enough to make the surrounding trees appear miniature in size. Wesson noticed Cara as she froze, watching her as she carefully examined a tree trunk he had passed by. He walked over to her, keeping his distance as he saw what had stopped her in her tracks. Cara was tracing the sharp angles of initials that were tattooed on the tree's bark - hers, his and Eli's. With wonder, he moved to Cara's side, as fascinated as she at the memories the tall evergreen brought back. "This is it," Cara whispered, still staring at the tree. "This is where we buried it."

Wesson nodded, remembering how he dug the hole with a large rock he found, Cara's hands gently cradling the lifeless bird as she cried. The three children had a burial ceremony for it that day, each remembering the feeling that life was so limited. They realized that someday, they too would be buried deep in the earth. Only, they feared no one would be there to mourn for them, fearing they would never escape the stone walls that held so many secrets, fearing of dying alone.

Cara moved past Wesson in silence, and he allowed her shoulder to gently brush his arm as he reached out and traced his brother's initials. Eli had told him it was his job to protect Cara, that he couldn't forget that she was out there, though she didn't know who he was without her memories. Wesson did everything he could to forget after his brother's death, so determined to erase the horrid images and experiences he couldn't shake from his mind to just survive. "I remember now," he said quietly to his brother as he stood alone, tracing the trunk of the tree. "And I will."

"Wesson!"

Skinner's voice broke through the forest, and he turned quickly toward it, his jog allowing him to rejoin the group. "Gibson thinks we're being watched," Skinner said quietly, leaning into Wesson, whose eyes peered around them in surveillance.

Wesson took out his gun, holding it down on his side as they peered at the openness of the valley where the dark, stone walls were erected from not far away. "Stay back with them," he ordered Skinner. "I'll go ahead first. Wait for my signal."

Before Cara could argue, Wesson swiftly darted out into the open, his gun drawn at his hip as he ran. He tried to see an opening through the thick vines that tangled themselves on the wall, unsure if the side he now reached was the front of the back of the compound.

Cara watched from the cover of the trees next to Skinner and Gibson in fear, seeing Wesson disappear around the corner out of sight. She waited in anticipation for Wesson to reappear, but after several moments when he didn't, and her heart stopped. It was the squeak of rusted hinges that startled them, seeing a small door opening as vines snapped from the movement, white snow falling off of their leaves. Cara closed her eyes in relief as she saw Wesson, his gun still drawn as he tilted his head to signal them to follow.

Taking Gibson's hand, Skinner kept him and Cara close as they darted through the open snow, the crunch of the ice crystals formed on the surface of the whiteness betraying their desire to be discreet in their arrival. Cara, now holding her gun securely, joined Wesson at his side and entered the compound cautiously, swallowing hard as she took in her surroundings. "Oh my God," she whispered, her eyes falling on a piece of brightly-colored plastic buried in the snow. Wesson stood beside her keeping watch as Cara's gloved fingers brushed some snow away, revealing what looked to be a remnant of a children's swingset. The edges of the plastic were melted, and it was then that she noticed the charring of the walls around them. "They burned it," she whispered.

"There might not be much here," Wesson said softly, his eyes still scanning the open courtyard for predators.

"Let's get inside," Cara said as she stood, tucking the yellow plastic in her coat pocket.

With a nod to Skinner and Gibson, Wesson led the way, closely followed by Cara as they approached the doorway that led into the building from the courtyard. Cara stepped aside, shielding Gibson with her left arm as she watched Wesson nod to Skinner, who expertly kicked in the door with his thick-soled boot, ducking away as Wesson filled the empty doorway with his gun drawn. "Clear," Cara heard Wesson say, and she grabbed Gibson's hand, pulling him to stay with her for safety.

The long hall they entered was lit by the flashlights that Wesson and Skinner carried, Cara protectively shielding Gibson as she followed. With little to see for a few moments, Cara's hopes of finding evidence dwindled, her heart sinking as she let the doubts creep into her mind. "Don't worry," Gibson said quietly as they walked. "You'll find what you need."

"Where, Gibson?" Cara asked, hoping he had some insight as far as a location in the building.

"Things aren't always as they seem," was his reply, and she felt herself freeze, remembering those words as they echoed in Mulder's voice in her mind.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"Sometimes, the answers are right in front of you," Gibson replied, continuing behind Skinner and Wesson.

"Cara!"

Wesson's voice broke Cara out of her reverie, and she rushed to his side. "Look." Wesson pointed inside a room that looked nearly destroyed to their right, and he stepped inside carefully. Cara followed suit, her eyes widening in shock. "The nursery. Do you remember?"

_She had gone there often, after losing the ability to escape to the trees with Brody and Eli. Her father refused to let her out of his sight, fearing her successful transformation would attract the wrong attention. So she stayed in the compound, not knowing how much time had passed since she was changed into a Shield. She knew she was fourteen, but felt older. She felt more responsibility burdening her than she thought possible. Going to the nursery was her only escape._

_She would play with the young children who slept in there, they being potential test candidates for the development serum. Brody had been a success, but Eli struggled, his body developing too fast for it to handle. His condition was similar to progeria, aging him into an old man though he was barely fifteen._

_The babies, supposedly, would be more apt to taking the rapid changes the serum caused, and so the parents with a child under the age of three were to volunteer their child. She could never understand how each of the children's parents had been so willing to give up their offspring for experiments. She then only concluded that it hadn't been voluntary - that though the fear of impending doom was great, the will for their sons and daughters to live was greater. _

_She had found through her time spent in the nursery that she had strong maternal instincts, the children there gravitating toward her as a mother-figure they so desperately desired. She would make them toys from medical supplies, tell them stories of enchanted woodland creatures, and kiss their heads before they fell asleep at night. _

"_Sing to me," she remembered how one chubby-cheeked toddler begged one evening, her tiny white jumpsuit still too large for her small body._

"_I can't sing," she replied, knowing it wasn't true._

"_Please. Please sing."_

_She sighed, inhaling deeply. She hadn't really known too many songs. Her life before the compound was hazy, the memories few. "Please sing," she heard the toddler whisper, her small, warm hand finding her larger one in the darkness of the room._

_Settling on a folk song that echoed in the halls of her memories, she brushed the long, dark hair from the toddler's eyes, feeling the child smile as she softly sang:_

"_Were I a little bird  
__and had two little wings,  
__I'd fly to thee;  
__But I must stay, because  
__that cannot be._

_Though I be far from thee,  
__in sleep I dwell with thee.  
__Thy voice I hear.  
__But when I wake again,  
__then all is drear."_

_She continued to stroke the child's hair, feeling the even exhaling of her body as it sank deeper into rest._

"_Each nightly hour my heart  
__with thoughts of thee will start,  
__When I'm alone;  
__for thou hast a thousand times,  
__pledged me thine own."_

_With a gentle kiss, she rested the tiny hand that had lost its grasp on hers from surrendering to slumber on the child's stomach, slipping out of the room._

Cara was still; she felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as she looked around herself, seeing the remaining bits of tiny metal beds and an image of a sun she had etched in the stone wall stained with dark soot. She was never to see the little girl, or any of the children again; she was taken violently that night from her sleep and put into the chamber to have her memories erased. Memories including the small face she now saw so clearly once again. Her stomach lurched as she thought of what might have happened to the child as well as the others, and she pressed herself against the wall, sinking down it with her eyes closed.

She felt Wesson's shockingly warm touch on her face, his gloved fingers tilting her chin to look at him. "Come on," he whispered, wiping away the tears she had shed. "Let's get out of here." She allowed him to lead her, unable to make the decision for herself. Though she wanted to, she didn't look back as they left the room, knowing whatever evils she would see if she did would never leave her mind so long as she lived.

It would be nearly an hour they would spend examining the charred building, searching for more than pictures of walls to bring back to Colorado for Will's trial. Nothing remained, aside from the fragment of plastic nestled in Cara's pocket - only the ghosts of so many young lives lost that noticeably further chilled the winter air.

"He's here," Gibson said suddenly, looking up at Cara. She didn't have to question who "he" was. He was one of them, and they all looked the same. Her eyes shot to Wesson's in a panic.

"We've got to get out of here," she whispered, and Wesson nodded.

They wove back through the building with purpose, the entrance into the courtyard their fevered destination. Cara gripped Gibson's hand firmly as she was wedged between Wesson in front of her and Skinner behind, the two men opting to encase the two most important people for safety. Cara felt the familiar elevated rhythm of her pulse she experienced when on pursuit while working a case, the adrenaline coursing through her veins and heightening her senses. For the first moment in what seemed like forever, she had lost her mental image of Will, the desire to save the tiny child growing inside of her taking the place of urgency.

Though they had expected an encounter by then, they made it into the courtyard, Skinner running with Cara and Gibson as he covered them from the front, Wesson following to cover from the back. When they reached the woodline, Cara turned sharply to look back, a sudden feeling of terror washing over her. "Go!" she ordered, keeping the premonition to herself. She couldn't explain that the child she just found out was inside of her had warned her the enemy was near, though they couldn't see it.

It was a race down the grade, the snow making the path slippery and dangerous, and Wesson grew concerned for Cara, who slowed her pace to keep her feet steady. He knew she was afraid to fall, not for herself but for the baby. He pressed Gibson forward toward Skinner, dropping back to grab Cara's hand. He ignored the indescribable heat the contact made between them, his only focus was getting her down the mountain safely. He kept his pace steady, allowing Cara to cling onto his arms when his long legs carried them faster than she naturally could go. He didn't want her to exert this much energy given her condition, but he assumed her getting quickly to the car waiting at the bottom of the path was safer than the alternative. He kept glancing over his shoulder, not seeing anything behind them in pursuit, but he knew Cara and Gibson still felt its presence.

A little more than halfway down, Wesson stopped Cara, whose face was bright red as she breathed heavily. "Breathe," he said, his fingers slipping to her neck to feel her pulse. It was much higher than was safe, and he quickly scanned the woods around them. "Rest for a minute," he said, glancing over at Skinner and Gibson, who caught their breath too as they quietly watched.

Feeling exhausted, Cara allowed herself to slump against Wesson, and his arms wrapped around her instinctively, feeling her pant as she tried to catch her breath. His mind was flooded with the will to survive, but the contact from her body made him ashamed as he felt the natural connection Gibson had mentioned earlier, her inner magnetism pulling at his emotions. He knew the truth - she would never be his. She was William's, and he respected that. He needed to make sure she would be safe so she could be with the one she truly belonged with.

In the quiet moments she spent catching her breath, Cara hadn't been oblivious to the obvious energy their body contact made. She tried to not think about it, choosing instead to think of her child, hoping the child inside of her would understand the powerful struggle her heart was experiencing. Wesson's arms felt like the period at the end of a sentence - necessary and completing, natural and wanted. As she breathed in the subtle hints of his aftershave, she felt her tears forming at the guilt of her attraction to him.

She knew she was stronger, more resistant, against the connection as she pulled away, her skin cooling and her pulse slowing. "We need to go," she whispered, and she withdrew herself from Wesson's grasp, propelling herself down the ridge. With mixed emotions, he followed, taking up the rear behind Skinner and Gibson, whose small voice broke through the thick tension:

"He's here."

A surge of renewed will to live ran through the group, and they descended down the mountain increasingly faster, dodging underbrush and drooped tree branches weighed down with snow. It was only moments after hearing Gibson's warning that Wesson saw the man, whose face was like all of theirs were, charging at Skinner from behind the trees to their left. Skinner shoved Gibson ahead, the bounty hunter colliding with him as they toppled onto the snow.

Wesson leaped onto the bounty hunter's back, pressing his gun into its neck and firing a round. "GO!" he yelled; Cara drug Gibson away, and he shoved Skinner away to avoid inhaling the toxic acid the bounty hunter's body now dissolved into.

He stood, running hard as he caught up with the rest, Cara out in front leading the way. As Gibson began to lose steam, Skinner grabbed him, carrying him in his arms as they pressed on. "There's another one," Gibson said with worry, and Wesson scanned the surroundings, his eyes widening in shock as one blasted Cara through the snow on the ground.

Wesson wrestled the bounty hunter off of Cara, twisting under its strength as it pressed him deep into the snow. He managed to shove it off of him, and sighed in relief as Cara swiftly impaled its neck with a knife she had retrieved from Wesson's car before they began hiking. Skinner knew to get himself and Gibson to a safe distance, and he carried the young man's small body, feeling the weight of it increasing in burden as he began to tire.

The clearing was visible - Wesson could see his car in the distance. He grabbed Cara's hand, more determined than ever to get her to safety. As they rushed into the clearing near Wesson's car, Skinner carrying Gibson and Cara approached it, and he followed behind them. The blast of a gun rang through the air, and Cara quickly turned, watching in horror as Wesson slumped to the ground, the bounty hunter who shot him in the side behind him now eyeing her.

"WESSON!" she screamed. Skinner left Gibson near the car, pulling his gun out and shooting with expertise into the bounty hunter's body, the holes from the bullets leaking acid as he continued to approach Cara. Being in front of it, she knew she was helpless, and she backed away, watching the bounty hunter raise his gun on her.

Three shots rang in the air, and Cara winced, watching as Wesson held his gun up after shooting the bounty hunter in the back of the neck. She rushed to Wesson's side as the body dissolved, knowing Skinner and Gibson needed to stay away to be safe. "Wesson!" she screamed, sliding down onto her knees as he slumped to the ground, his blood painting the snow in bright red. She tore open his coat as he lay, his eyes half open and his breathing low. She opened her coat, tearing her sweater's hem as she took a segment of her shirt, pressing the fabric to the gaping wound in Wesson's side. "Wesson, stay with me!" she begged, feeling his struggled breathing.

"Go," he managed. "Get out of here."

"No!" she said sharply, her hands being covered in his blood as it continued to leak through the fabric.

"Cara," he whispered, "Go."

"NO!" she repeated, her tears sliding down her face freely. She swore behind her in the distance, she heard a car's tires squeal to a halt, but the sounds around her were fading out as she focused on Wesson's face. "Come on, Detective! Don't quit now!"

"Cara." Wesson's voice was so soft that she leaned close to his face to just hear him. She jumped when she heard the yelling and a gunshot behind her, seeing yet another bounty hunter be eliminated by Mulder's expert shot. As it dissolved near her, she turned her focus back onto Wesson, whose eyes were locked on her face. "Listen … to me," he murmured. "Use me."

"What?" she asked, her voice raw as her tears continued to fall.

"Use … my body," Wesson whispered. "For evidence."

"Wesson-"

"Let me … let me serve my purpose," Wesson said, coughing in between his words.

"Shh," Cara said softly, pulling his head into her lap. "You're crazy. You've still got work to do." She knew her words were a lie, and though she knew he did as well, she was grateful he couldn't read the terror that flooded her mind.

"I'm … I'm proof …"

"Shh," she whispered, pulling off her gloves and pressing them into his wound. Her free hand stroked his face; she felt the softness of his beautiful brown skin despite the stubbles of ebony hair from his forming beard. She watched in horror as she saw the light leaving his eyes. He was dying. "No, damnit!" she whispered. "Don't tap out! Come on!" She was shaking as she held him, his breath ragged as she cradled him. "Please … please, Brody."

"I'm … I'm glad … someone …. was here with me. We … we always … were afraid … of dying alone."

"You're not dying!" she said firmly through her tears.

"Protect … the baby," he whispered. "Let me be … the proof … for William."

She knew the others were approaching her, now that the threat of the acid was gone, yet she didn't look in their direction. Her heart stopped, watching as Wesson's eyes lost more light. Overcome with emotion, she took his face in her hands, pressing her mouth onto his and kissing his still-warm lips. She felt his mouth move under hers, his lips entrapping hers. The surge of energy created between them was incredible, and she deepened the kiss, clutching his face in her hands as she felt his last breaths taken through his nose as he invited her lips onto his.

He slumped into her lap, his eyes blinking slowly as his breath became more ragged, and her face hovered over his as she took in his soft words. "I know … you weren't meant for me," he whispered, "but maybe … maybe in the next life."

She gasped as she saw his face drain of color, his eyes closed as his words were carried on his final breath. His first name escaped her mouth in a terrified whisper. She screamed, the tears falling freely as she clutched his lifeless face, her hands stained in his blood. There were no words, just sound as she cried, the mourning she felt as she held him rocking her at her core.

Mulder's long arm had swept across to Scully as he stopped approaching them, blocking her from going any further toward the scene they just witnessed. His mouth remained open as he observed Cara kissing Wesson, watching him take his final breaths. Scully knew as she watched that Wesson had died protecting Cara, but the image of her lips pressed against his in desire burned a hole in her mind's eye, unable to do anything but assume she had feelings for him without the knowledge of the natural connection Shields possessed. Her heart jumped as her eyebrow raised, her mind immediately on her son, who she knew loved the woman in front of her more than his own life. After seeing what she saw, she wasn't sure if the feeling was any longer mutual.

* * *

Thousands of miles away, Will shot up from his concrete slab bed in an instant cold sweat, panting as the pictures flashed into his mind. His recent calmness had allowed him to better focus his abilities, horrified that now that the first telepathic communication he had with his mother in weeks was her sending a mental postcard of Cara willingly kissing another man with passion.


	13. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

2 days later  
February 17, 2012  
6:25 A.M. EST

Cara fingered the lapel of her black suit that hung dutifully in her closet, waiting for an occasion such as the one she found herself in now to become useful. Today was Brody Wesson's funeral. New York City itself would come to a halt as a sea of uniformed NYPD officers would process with solemn remembrance of their fallen brother. The fear of facing the event consumed her, and Cara worried she wouldn't be strong like she needed to as she led the way.

Wesson hadn't been fully honest with her, the secrets he took to the grave were ones of great significance. Knowing full-well Cara wouldn't support his betraying of the Colonists for his own sake, he lied and said he had come into contact with his mother before things began with her and Will. In reality, his mother, as Cara found out, had died well over a year ago. Brody Wesson had no remaining family, and it was only his life being threatened by the Colonists. Being that he had no next of kin through blood, Cara was shocked that her name appeared on his latest change of his will, processed during the week she was still recovering in Oregon. He had taken a leap of faith that, though her memories were few, she would ultimately trust him, her reward being literally all he had. He had known he would die trying to help her, trying to save Will. He merely waited for it all that time, first making her believe he was something he wasn't in an attempt to drive her away from the heart of the trouble. Then, when all else failed, he used himself as a human shield to protect her - a fitting end, as he saw, for someone designed for shielding.

She directed whatever money Wesson had to be used first for a burial plot next to his mother, instructing that his tombstone read, "Never Alone" with the picture of a bird underneath. The rest of what he had she donated to the NYPD that he loved and served, keeping only one blanket from his apartment, its color a rich black like his hair. She had woken up the morning of his funeral wrapped in it, the lingering hints of aftershave cocooning her in the electric warmth she could still feel from his sensual kiss.

She had also made good on Wesson's request to be used as an aid to help Will, ordering a complete genetic workup of his body to be performed immediately under the direction of Scully. Midnight oil was burned to ensure the evidence could be properly retrieved and stored for its trip to Colorado, which would be right after the funeral. Tomorrow, after she dropped her long-stem rose on Wesson's casket today, she would be reunited with Will.

Much to her surprise, neither Mulder nor Scully pressed for answers when it came to Wesson's death. Cara told them he had died heroically, leaving the details of the connection they shared, as well as the severed feeling of her heart from his death, out of the picture. She didn't know who saw what, nor did she concern herself with it - it wasn't something that she felt she was obligated to explain. He was a friend, the only one she really ever had besides Will, and now he was gone.

Cara wiped away the small tear that managed to break free from her emotions, taking the suit jacket off of the hanger and slipping it on over her bright blue button-down shirt. Being that she had turned in her badge and gun, she chose to wear civilian clothing, the blue shirt she selected in memory of the eyes that continued to haunt her mind.

The black duffel bag Wesson had packed her was still on the floor of her bedroom, and as she buttoned her shirt, she stared at it. She almost felt as if there were so many emotions she carried in the silence of her mind that they somehow canceled each other out, leaving her with the blankness that reminded her of the place she traveled to during her hypnosis session.

Cara examined herself in the mirror, compulsively pressing the rebellious fabric of her shirt down as she evaluated herself. The blue of her shirt, though radiant, would never compare to his eyes. Her hand traveled to her stomach, feeling the softness of it through her layers of clothing. She wondered silently what kind of a father Brody would have been, though she immediately concluded he would have been a perfect one.

This child, this beautiful and special child she carried, had her best friend as its father, and she trembled as she saw Will's face in her mind. What would he say? What would he do? Would he love it as much as she did? There was little time left until she received her answers, when she finally saw Will face-to-face through a sheet of plexiglass. She didn't care - she ached for him, her love for him stronger than even the most electric connection she had made with Wesson. While she knew Brody would always hold a special place, it was Will who would forever own her soul.

The knock on her front door made her heart jump, her hand dashing away from her stomach as if she was a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. No one knew now besides Gibson, who she had no choice but to trust. Wesson had taken the secret with him to the afterlife, as well as a piece of her heart.

The click of her heeled boots she wore with her dark, lean suit echoed in the silence of her apartment as she made her way to the door, opening it after viewing who it was. It was Mulder, dressed in a sharp, black suit with a crisp white shirt and silky black tie, a rose tucked into his breast pocket. She let him in, closing the door behind him, trying to contain the tears that his presence brought, carrying such a sense of finality with it.

Scully, Skinner and Gibson had opted to take a separate flight into Colorado. Mulder insisted on staying with Cara through the funeral proceedings, accompanying her on a slightly later flight that day. As she turned to face him, Cara saw his small smile, and caught the single rose he held in his hand. "For you," he said softly, watching as she took the rose, feeling its damp stem under her fingertips.

"Thank you," she managed, stepping around him to gather her wristlet. "We should have time after to come back," she said softly, "so I figured I'd change before the flight."

Mulder knew Cara wouldn't want to be dressed in the sharp suit she wore for long, the association of it needing to be removed from her present state. "Sure," he said. "That's fine."

There weren't many words exchanged after those, Cara sitting in silence as Mulder drove. She peered at the water underneath the bridge they crossed into the city, swallowing as she thought of the Riggs' case and her harsh words she exchanged with Wesson, never realizing he was merely waiting to die for her at that point. He had intervened when he found out she was going through regressive hypnosis, knowing she would need protection since she couldn't seem to stop her obsessive quest for evidence of Will's innocence.

They were among the first to arrive, the city still waking up, coming to life slowly around them. It was the march of what seemed like ten thousand officers, stepping with purpose, that made her realize that it was too late to run away, to hide. Brody had chosen her to lead, even from the grave, and so lead she would.

The procession began with a swarm of police officers on motorcycles, their lights shining of red and blue, illuminated the crowd. The haunting drumbeats of the NYPD Emerald Society Pipes and Drums guided the way, the sounds ringing through the streets with honor. Dressed in Celtic tartans and pleated kilts, the mournful shrill of bagpipes burst through the winter air from the skilled musicians who handled them, their cadence permeating the hearts of everyone present.

Cara stepped silently alongside Mulder, trying to swallow the sobs that threatened to escape her as she led the procession of the casket inside the hearse, escorted by eight white-gloved officers in dress blues. Seeing her shaking, Mulder slipped his hand out, grasping hers firmly as they continued through the walls of uniformed men and women. The sea of officers around them, some even five rows deep, gallantly raise their gloved hands to their corresponding temples, marking the passing of the rose-covered vehicle as it rolled slowly by.

The procession halted in silence when they arrived at the steps of the church. Cara had selected St. Patrick's Cathedral in Midtown, remembering the first service she attended there with her high school friend and her parents, who she was living with; she knew since it made her feel like she finally had a family that Wesson, too, would feel the same. "An Inspector's Funeral" began to play after the silence, each note sounding like a sob escaping the throats of the bereaved. Cara and Mulder watched as the escort officers carefully lifted Brody Wesson's casket, handling it with importance and care, their faces the very picture of the devastation Cara felt in her heart. His rich, ebony casket she had selected was draped with an American flag, one that had green stripes in place of the red ones. The pallbearers, Mulder volunteering to be one, gripped the casket firmly as a lone horn cut through the air, the familiar notes of "Amazing Grace" bestowed upon those gathered. Without Mulder's hand to hold, Cara dutifully stepped in front of the coffin alone up the stairs to the cathedral, where she took her place to the side of the coffin that the pallbearers carefully rested at the top, the Police Commissioner now taking his place to speak. She felt relieved when Mulder rejoined her, taking her hand in his and squeezing it for comfort.

"Detective Brody Wesson was a remarkable man of character; disciplined, ambitious, enthusiastic and inspired by his love of his home state and his country. In his fifteen years as a police officer, he was dedicated to the mission of the New York City Police Department. May his life be an example of courage, honor and service."

Cara felt herself gripping Mulder's hand tightly as she tried to take deep, even breaths, watching the mayor now step to the pulpit to speak. His words were lost on her, though, as her eyes fell on the casket that contained his body. _Damnit, Brody! _she whispered in her mind. _Why? WHY?! Why couldn't you find me sooner? Why did you have to die? Why did you believe in me so much when I don't even believe in myself?_

She knew the mayor was directing his eulogy to her, being she was the only family that was there to represent Wesson. She didn't want to hear his words, words from a man who didn't even know him or the hell Brody Wesson had experienced in his life. Words from a man who sat behind a desk, safe from the evils that Brody so willingly chased to his very last breath. Words from a man who more than likely had some connection with the monsters who chased them through the woods and shot him, letting his blood spill to cover up secrets. She wanted to scream and pound on the mayor's face until he, too, felt the pain that tore into her heart - until he, too, knew what fear was and what sacrifice was.

Cara felt Mulder wrap his arm around her waist, his large hand holding her as she realized she had began shaking. She was quivering against the chill of her anger as it seeped deep into her veins. If the last thing she did on earth was to end the reign of evil over it, she would give every last ounce of herself to do it. It was her vow she silently pledged to the ebony coffin that now was lifted inside of the church, Mulder opting to stay with Cara as another uniformed officer took his place as pallbearer.

The service was solemn. Cara's focus was fixed on the coffin in front of her; she felt Mulder's warmth beside her, his concern permeating through his body toward her. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as the officers handed her the elegantly folded flag that had been tucked around the coffin, and received it in her hands, letting the silk material slide under her fingertips. It reminded her of the smoothness of his skin that she felt, a wave of completion and electricity running through her as she touched his face before he died.

The procession to his burial plot was just as grand, the emotions climaxing under the haze of the unified sorrow of the witnesses of his casket being place to rest. After rich, comforting words were spoken by the priest, Cara lifted the single rose Mulder had given her, kissing it gently and resting it over where she knew Wesson's heart was under the coffin. "Maybe I'll see you in the next life," she whispered so softly that the words barely left her tongue. "But in this one, I fight now for you."

Mulder didn't know how to deal with his own emotions well, let alone what to do to comfort Cara as he saw her blank stare out of the passenger's side window on their journey back to Hoboken later that day. He opted to remain silent, knowing the many times death had crossed his path that words weren't able to mend the wounds created. As he parked his car in front of a spot near the entrance to her apartment complex, Cara quickly slipped out of the car, not waiting for Mulder as she fled to the safety of her home. He leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes as he thought of Will - his son would have a lot to understand very soon, and he hoped he would be willing to listen.

* * *

Inside her apartment, Cara tried to distract herself from the flood of emotions she felt, sifting through mail she hadn't had a chance to catch up on. She nearly gasped as her hands found one white envelope, the rushed pen markings on the outside - no name, just her address - stirring her. She knew it was Will's handwriting, and her heart immediately ached for him, letting his words sink into her as she stood in the kitchen and read:

"_By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it.  
__The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired._"

_You are with me every waking moment.  
__I continue to create you with each breath I take,  
__waiting to feel you in my arms once again._

She knew it was the sound of her mournful sorrow that caused Mulder to rush into her apartment; she hadn't locked the door behind her from being too consumed with thought. Mulder was stunned when he found her slumped against the kitchen counter on the floor, her hands buried in her face as her body shook, her sobbing muffled into her wrinkled suit. She still clutched the letter as she cried, and Mulder knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her as she pressed into his chest. His own tears escaped as he held her, knowing all she had lost and all that was still hanging in the balance.

He didn't rush her - he knew she needed the time, and they still had time to make it to the airport. She eventually pulled away from him, too embarrassed to make eye contact as he helped her stand. He watched her take the letter with her as she disappeared into her bedroom, the gentle click of her door shutting letting him know that she needed the distance.

Cara hastily stripped out of her suit in the privacy of her bedroom, the letter from Will resting on her bed as she undressed. Glancing to her adjoining bathroom, she took a deep breath and went inside, her intention to confirm what she already knew in her heart.

It was as if fate had prepared her for this moment, seeing the box of pregnancy tests resting in the drawer next to the toilet. Of course, she explained to herself, what single woman didn't have some of these in her bathroom? It didn't matter why they were were, she didn't care how they arrived - she tore open the fresh box, ignoring the white wrapper with pink lettering as it fell to the ground out of sight next to the toilet. She waited in silence as she placed the used test on the counter, standing in her underwear as she stared down at it. The seconds seemed to tick by aloud, a clock as large as Big Ben filling her mind with the sound of passing time. Yet, there were no words to be said when she saw the results. It was positive - she already knew in her heart it was. She stared at the two bright pink lines in wonder and awe, feeling startled when she felt a foreign sensation of movement in her lower abdomen. _Impossible, _she thought. _I won't feel that for at least another three months._

Dismissing it, she quickly left her bathroom, discarding the test in the trash. As she pulled on her jeans and a sweater that Will had mentioned he liked years ago, she looked back toward the bathroom with hesitation. With a sigh, she retrieved the bag of garbage, twisting the top tightly into a knot to secure it.

She emerged from her bedroom dressed, her bag for the trip she had packed in one hand and the trash bag in the other. "Trash pickup is tomorrow," she murmured for an excuse as to her sudden need to take out the garbage, gathering the bag from the kitchen and tying it in the same fashion. Wordlessly, she picked up her keys, coat and wristlet, dragging the two bags of trash with her as she left the apartment, Mulder following behind her.

"Let me help you," he offered.

"No," she replied quickly, grabbing the trash bags a bit tighter. "I'm alright."

As they made their way down the hall to the garbage shoot, Cara shoved both bags deep into the metal tunnel, watching as they fell out of sight. Satisfied, she picked up her luggage and looked up at Mulder. "I'm ready," she said with self-assurance, joining him as they took the elevator to the first floor.

* * *

As Mulder pulled the car away toward the airport, a man slipped inside of Cara's apartment building, walking with purpose to the elevator. Five floors up, he unlocked apartment 914 without a key, slipping inside as he began his search. A few moments later, he reemerged, slipping the white wrapper with pink lettering inside his coat pocket with a smile as he relocked the apartment door and disappeared out of sight.

* * *

ADX Florence  
8:07 P.M. MST

Will's visit with his lawyer had been exhausting. He didn't know it would be followed by a last minute attempt for him to admit his guilt to the prosecutor who came in shortly after his attorney had arrived. His mind was crowded with the image of Cara, her lips entangled with another man's, and he had no room mentally for anything else.

He had considered a ballistic rage, much like the one he had allowed himself when he first thought Cara to be in danger. Instead, he chose to cut himself off from the world, saving the energy for Cara herself, anticipating the moment when he would confront her with her dirty little secret.

He didn't bother to ask the context behind the kiss - he was too enraged at just the thought of it occurring. He had given everything - EVERYTHING - to protect her. He had allowed himself to be locked in a concrete box, to be beaten and starved, to be spit at and condemned, just so she could be free. Yet, it pained him that she had obviously taken for granted their friendship, not to mention the soul-baring love-making they shared together that had burned into Will's heart with intensity. Everything in his being had been given to her, everything he did was for her. Now, as he sat across from a man who was more than gleeful to see him die, he wondered if he shouldn't just give up the fight and let him win.

Before he knew it, the visit was over and he was shoved into a large, open space with a few showerheads attached to a tile wall, more small tiles covering the floor. A giant shower of sorts, only there was absolutely no privacy to be had. It didn't matter - nothing really did at that point. The images of Cara he had seen festered in his mind over two days, the rot they created consuming Will to the point of numbness. He stripped, letting the lukewarm water run over his body as he shut his eyes, trying to erase the things he saw in his mind's darkness as he felt guards with weapons watching.

After scrubbing his body from blood, sweat and dirt, Will dressed in the fresh navy pants and tee shirt he had been promised, even donning a new pair of laceless white sneakers as he made his way back to his cell. He could only assume they wanted a good, outward appearance of their hospitality for his visitors, who would be arriving tomorrow. His parents would be first, they said, followed by Cara by herself. When he first arrived, he longed for the day when he would see her again. Now, the idea made him sick as he lay on his concrete slab, bound and worn. With hesitation, he touched his lips, a tear escaping his eye when he ran his fingers over them, feeling only part of the kiss remaining there.


	14. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Near Florence, CO  
11:47 P.M. MST

Though the circumstances weren't ideal, Scully was more than ready to see Will again. The emptiness she felt from her son's absence had eaten away at her, and she needed now more than ever to see his face, to watch him breathe, to look into his eyes and to speak life into his heart.

She had arrived with Gibson and Skinner earlier that night, ordering in and watching cable television in the Colorado motel about forty miles away from ADX Florence that Mulder booked, waiting for his and Cara's arrival later on. She would stay with Gibson while Skinner picked them up from the airport, trying to erase the rapid flow of thoughts from her mind so Gibson wouldn't have an insight into her fears for her son. However, Gibson seemed unaffected by her thoughts, absorbing the images from the television in front of them with singular focus.

Doggett and Reyes were two rooms down, Cara being the only person to occupy a room by herself. Though Mulder insisted the women bunk together and the men bunk together in only two rooms, Scully had persuaded him to book four rooms, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for all involved. She knew Mulder worried for Cara's safety being alone, but understood Scully's point. She was still in mourning, and she needed space to grieve.

Gibson didn't flinch at the soft knock on the door to Scully's hotel room late that night, not seeming to notice the urgency Scully answered it with, or how she wrapped her arms around Mulder with relief at his presence. Gibson knew she was scared, and she felt better with Mulder there, which was all he needed to know as he slipped out of the room and into the one he was sharing with Skinner, leaving them alone with their worried thoughts.

"How is she?" Scully asked Mulder, seeing the worry on his face as he set his bag down on the floor.

"In pain," he replied, turning to look at Scully. "Scully, what we witnessed-"

"Is something we can't understand," Scully interrupted.

"Don't you think our son should know?" Mulder asked.

She knew he was struggling with it, and so was she. After two days of thinking about it, she had tried to give Cara the benefit of the doubt, choosing to believe in the young woman who had worked so hard on her son's behalf, risking herself in more ways than one. "Yes, but not from us," she answered, not realizing it was far too late for that.

"Do you really think she'll tell him?"

"Mulder, that's not our decision to make."

"He's our son! He's rotting in that shithole to _protect_ her!"

"And she's here to _defend_ him!" Scully sighed, her hands on her hips.

"Whose side are you on?" Mulder asked, obviously still angry over the kiss he witnessed.

"Our son's," she snapped, "which means I believe in him. And if he believes in her, then I have to as well."

"It can't be to his benefit to be with someone who doesn't value the sacrifices he makes for them."

It was an argument that wouldn't be resolved, Mulder's resistance to Scully's stance obvious in his face and in his tone. She decided to surrender, far too consumed with seeing her son again in the morning that the details of his love life seemed to dwindle in importance.

* * *

February 18, 2012  
07:23 A.M. MST

After a restless sleep for nearly everyone, the group gathered early in the morning outside of the motel. Mulder, Scully would visit first, then Doggett and Reyes to review the evidence they had gathered, followed by Cara last. Skinner and Gibson would remain at the hotel, their last-minute additional presence unable to be pardoned for a visit; they understood, too, the priority should be given to the others first, though Skinner was incredibly anxious to meet an adult William. It was Cara's suggestion of going last that made everyone curious, not knowing the overwhelming amount of nerves she had over the life-changing information she needed to share with Will in private.

The forty-mile drive was mostly silent, Doggett being the majority speaker as he covered basic security procedures for entering the prison, as well as briefing them on some of the "finer" points of the facility they should be prepared for. Mulder snuck glances through the rearview mirror as he drove at Cara, who seemed to be lost in thought the entire way as she stared out of the window. He knew Scully was right, that he should trust in their relationship, but he couldn't help but fear for his son and wonder about the intentions of the woman he loved.

All of the debriefing in the world couldn't have prepared Scully for the chills that ran up her spine as she stepped inside the penitentiary, the evils surrounding her almost too much to bear. She understood as she walked through the dreary halls why Will had lost himself in a fit of rage for being here, and she hadn't even been there more than an hour. It was inhumane for someone like Will, who had done nothing wrong aside from trying to protect his life and the lives of the people he loved. Sensing her struggle, Mulder took her hand in his, silently agreeing to forget their differences regarding the events of two days prior and to just focus on seeing their son.

Scully felt the tears forming as she stepped inside the visiting room from the third chamber, her eyes falling on Will chained to a concrete pole like a wild animal. Though his clothes looked fairly clean, she saw the growth of his stubble on his face and the weight he had lost was evident, his skin paler than she remembered. "William," she whispered, the shock on her face evident as she approached the glass. "Why are you chained?"

"Mom," Will greeted her with a relieved sigh, pulling against his restraints to move as close to the glass as he could go. Though he had only learned of hers and Mulder's existence as his parents a short while ago, he never found it difficult or odd to call them his mom and dad, the affectionate monikers rolling off his tongue with natural ease. Wincing against the chains as he was stretched, he smiled softly. "It's so good to see you."

Will's eyes shot up as Mulder approached the glass. "Dad," he breathed, shutting his eyes. His head dropped; he fought against the tears that seeing them had instantly created.

"William," Mulder said gently, his eyes falling on his son's chained hands, "why are you chained?"

"I lost all of my privileges a while ago," Will murmured, looking from Mulder to Scully. "I'm always chained."

Mulder shook his head. "I'll get them to take them off," he said with determination as he walked swiftly out of the room. Will listened to his father's enraged thoughts as he watched him leave, his focus shifting to his mother.

"Mom," Will whispered, "you would tell me the truth, right?"

"Of course," Scully replied, her hand pressed against the glass in an attempt to create contact with Will.

"What are my odds?" Will asked, his jaw tightening as he fought against his fears.

"We're getting you out of here, William."

"Mom, I need to know."

"William-"

"Please, Mom. Tell me."

Scully sighed. "You probably already read it in my mind anyway."

"I need to hear you say it," Will whispered.

"Not good," she said softly, a tear escaping her eyes. She sniffed, wiping it away quickly as she tried to remain calm. "But we do have some pretty damning evidence for your defense. It might be enough."

"What kind of evidence?" Will asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Complete genetic proof of the existence of the Shield Project, as well as the Development Serum you were administered."

Will's eyes narrowed. "How did you get that?"

Scully's lips parted, ready to answer when the doors swung open in both sides of the rooms, Mulder entering his with triumph and two armed guards entering Will's half, unlocking the multiple layers of heavy chain that hung on his waist, ankles and wrists. Will closed his eyes, remaining motionless as the guards stripped him of his chains, and he breathed a sigh of relief when they left. He slowly rotated his wrists, his eyes still closed as he gratefully took in the newfound freedom. "Thank you," he whispered, looking at Mulder, who smiled softly, his heart breaking in silence over the cruel treatment his son had experienced. "How did you get the evidence?" he asked Scully. "Did Cara …"

"No," Mulder interrupted, sensing his son's fearful conclusion. "Another Shield came into contact with Cara when she first arrived back in Hoboken. His last request was to be used as evidence for your trial."

"... He died?"

Mulder nodded. "He died protecting Cara," Scully replied.

Will shut his eyes, placing his hand on the glass in front of him directly in front of his mother's hand. "I saw it," he said softly. "I saw it through you."

Scully's lips parted, and she glanced up at Mulder, who shut his eyes, turning away from Will. "William …" he began softly, Mulder's voice filled with regret.

"Don't lie to me," Will said sharply, though his voice was still soft. "Tell me the truth. Did she love him?"

"We can't answer that, William, and you know it," Mulder said firmly.

"But you have your opinions," Will replied, locking eyes with his father as he withdrew his hand from the glass.

"Don't do this to yourself," Mulder said, stepping toward his son. "Don't … don't let this take hold of you." Mulder sighed. "Cara … has been through a lot. She deserves the benefit of your doubt."

Scully was surprised by Mulder's stance, watching Will observe his father intently. "That's not what you think," Will said softly. "It's what Mom thinks."

"What I think," Mulder said, stepping close to the glass, eyeing Will, "is that you've _got _to trust in us. You are letting your fears and doubts control you, and that's _what they want_, William." Mulder's voice rose as his passion increased in his argument. "You're allowing them to dictate your future through your inability to resist their games."

"It's not _their _games I'm worried about."

"You're blind, William! Everything … everything that has happened has come to pass just the way they wanted it to_. _You've encouraged them to dig deeper into your mind through your rage, through your jealousy, your anger. William - these people have taken _everything … EVERYTHING … _away from your mother and me, but I'll be damned if they win because _you _were too ignorant to see your own mistakes."

Scully found herself observing a familiar scene of the two alpha males battling, for once grateful for the thick plexiglass between them but not entirely sure if it would even matter should things get too heated. She silently hoped Mulder's words would sink into their son, knowing what Mulder said was right and from painful, personal experience. She was relieved when she saw Will back down, his hands running through his grown-out hair as he sighed. "William," Mulder said carefully, "we're getting you out of here, but you've _got _to trust us no matter what."

"I do trust you," Will replied, looking from him to Scully.

"_All _of us," Mulder refined, the implication eliciting a reaction from Will.

"Fine," Will said stiffly.

"Good," Mulder replied, knowing Will was only fifty percent of the way there.

"Doggett and Reyes are coming to see you next to review the evidence," Scully said softly, hoping to change the subject. The ring of the warning buzzer filled the air, its tone reminding them their time was running out.

Will nodded. "Will you be back?"

"We should be allowed to see you before the trial begins."

"I'll make sure of it," Mulder said softly, hoping it would comfort Will - it did.

"Thank you," Will said, pressing both palms against the glass. Mulder's hand covered one while Scully's hand covered the other, and Will breathed deeply, resting his forehead against the cool plexiglass. Impulsively, Scully reached up to her son's head on her tip toes and pressed a kiss against the glass, knowing he appreciated it as she heard him murmur, "I love you."

"I love you, William," she said softly, wiping a tear away from her eye.

"I love you, son," Mulder said gently, patting the glass softly as the buzzer rang loudly, indicating their time had expired for their visit that day.

"I love you, Dad," Mulder heard Will say softly as he walked away, his heart wrenching and his mind reeling with anger for the Colonists.

* * *

Will enjoyed the freedom to pace in his half of the room as he wrestled with his thoughts while waiting for Doggett and Reyes to visit. He knew his father was right - he did need to trust - but he found it increasingly harder to do so, the isolation taking away his better judgment and faith in people.

It would be equally as short a visit with Doggett and Reyes, and they rushed through the evidence they had gathered in an attempt to reassure him that they had a strong argument in his favor. Though Will saw the fears they held in the silence of their minds, he made sure to be more than gracious for all the two agents had given him, knowing it was well-received and rewarded with their continued loyalty in turn.

He had no chair to sit on, so Will took to the floor as he waited Cara's appearance, the knot in his stomach growing with each moment she delayed coming into the room. He felt his heart stop as he heard the two closest chamber doors open and shut, and he buried his head into his knees as he hugged them, feeling her presence in the room and smelling her perfume faintly through the tiny holes in the plexiglass, choosing to wait to look into her eyes until he gained enough patient strength to.

He heard her step to him slowly, and though he couldn't read her thoughts, his heart knew it was a mess inside of her mind as he felt her stare down at him. "Will?" he heard her whisper, and he heard her press against the glass, not expecting her to be kneeling at his level when he lifted his head and finally looked into her eyes.

Her eyes were bluer than he remembered them to be, long dark lashes framing them as they searched his face. Her dark hair hung radiantly loose, and he moistened his lips as he remembered how soft it was against his face when he had buried it deep in it before. Her mouth was opened slightly, her nervous breaths flowing through as the rise and fall of her chest, clad in his favorite sweater she owned, marked each one. Her small hand rested on the glass, and he saw her eyes welling with tears at his silence, choosing to just absorb the image of her before speaking. "Will?" she repeated, and he caught her nervously biting her lip as she waited for him to respond.

"Cara," he said finally, hating himself for the weakness he felt when he spoke her name. He was angry - and he had every right to be - but just the sight of her completed him in a way he never knew possible, as if her very being was designed to perfectly compliment his.

"Will … are you alright?" She was stroking the glass, begging him to come closer.

"I'm fine," he said firmly, feeling the anger building back up inside of him. "You?"

Cara was taken back by his cool tone. "Better now," she said softly, showing a bit of obvious hurt to his stand-off behavior. Still on her knees, she searched his eyes. "Will, talk to me, please," she begged, hating his calculated silence.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked in a low, dry tone. He stood easily, now looking down at her. "Want to hear about all the perks of being the most hated man in ADX Florence?"

The hurt Cara felt was obvious in her face as she stood. "Will-"

"Or how about the special treatment I've gotten the last few days when I thought you were in trouble?"

"Will, please-"

"Or maybe you'd like to know how many fucking times I thought about you, how you were all that kept me sane, all that kept me from not smashing my head into a concrete wall to get away from the demons!" Will's words stunned Cara into shocked silence. She knew her mouth was open, but she wasn't sure if even breath was coming out. "Maybe you'd like to talk about your little rendezvous back home that sure shocked the hell out of me when I saw it!"

Cara's heart stopped as she understood what Will was saying and why he was saying it. There were witnesses to the kiss she shared with Wesson, one of them being Will's mother, who he could communicate telepathically, though up to that point Scully had been unable to. "Will, I-"

"I'm in here for _you, _Cara!" Will yelled, slamming his hands onto the glass as he pressed his palms flat. "All of this … every fucking thing I've endured was _for you_!"

The rage switched on in Cara with lightening speed. "Oh, so you think you're the only one who went through hell, right?" she asked, her voice dark and raised. "You think you're the only one who _suffered _because, why? Because I'm not here, and I was home?" Her heart was racing as she faced him, feeling her body begin to shake. "You don't know HALF of the HELL I've been through!"

"Seemed like to me you were quite enjoying yourself!"

"Fuck you, Will!" Cara screamed. "You don't know a fucking thing about it!"

"What don't I know, Cara?" Will screamed back, his rage causing the light bulb in the overhead light in his half of the room to explode, his face now only lit by the light from Cara's half of the room, partially veiled in darkness. "How you enjoyed him while you let me rot?"

"Will, you fucking idiot-"

"What I don't know, Cara, is why I was so fucking stupid to think you actually cared!"

"Will, I do care-"

"If you gave a shit, I wouldn't have seen what I saw!"

"Will, stop it, please!" Her voice was weak, the tears flowing down her face freely as his words assaulted her.

"What … can't handle the truth, Cara?"

"Please stop!"

He was ready with more, his mouth prepared to deliver another punch to her when he froze, watching how she had her arms wrapped around herself, her body shaking with her silent sobs. He closed his eyes, realizing this was what his father had said they wanted - they wanted him weak, angry and dark. He had allowed them to take away his trust in the only person he truly trusted in his life. He had allowed them to win through his ignorance.

Will felt sick with guilt, his head hanging as he heard Cara's quivering breaths on the other side of the glass. He hadn't even given her a chance; he remembered with clarity how she had sacrificed so much for him, probably more now than he knew of, and he began to fear she was slipping away. "Cara …" His voice was shaky as he approached the glass, swallowing as he watched her cry. He sighed deeply, leaning his forehead against the glass in defeat.

With a moment's hesitation, Cara cautiously approached the plexiglass separating them, her finger tracing the impression of Will's forehead. "He … he died saving me," she whispered, grateful when she saw he was listening fully to her. "He was the only friend I had as a child, when I was in the compound. He … he tested the serum for you." She searched his eyes as Will's head lifted, not realizing the sacrifice Wesson had made even as a child for him. "His brother died from the serum. But he survived. He … he knew he was going to die because of his choice to protect me and help you. He loved me … but knew I could never love him back. He … he never … he never tried to take anything from me. I …" Her tears were falling freely as Will watched breathlessly. "... I wanted to give him what I could before …"

"Shh," Will whispered, trying to feel her face through the thick glass. "I'm sorry, Cara," he murmured. "Please … I'm so sorry."

"Will," she breathed, wiping away her tears, "he didn't die only protecting me." She found her hands placed overtop of his on her side of the glass, wishing she could feel his warmth.

"My parents?" he asked softly.

Cara shook her head. "Your child, Will," she whispered.

Immediately, Will pressed away from the glass, the shock of her words kicking him in his ribcage. "My … what?" he asked.

"Will," Cara said, moistening her lips, "I'm pregnant ... I'm pregnant with your child."

The offensive ring of the warning buzzer cut through the silence, causing Cara to jump. Will swallowed hard, knowing there were only precious minutes left. "You're … you're …" He couldn't finish his sentence.

Cara nodded. "I'm about five to six weeks along."

The initial panic left his face, and Cara swore she saw a light return to his eyes. "You're pregnant," he repeated softly. She laughed gently.

"Yes," she replied. Will stepped up against the glass, covering her palm with his. "You're going to be a father, Will." Cara smiled, watching his large hand move to her stomach, covering it reverently. She gasped when she felt the motion inside of her abdomen from what she could only assume was the baby, shocked at its response to Will's hand though through a sheet of plastic glass.

"What happened?" Will asked quickly, his voice panicked. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," Cara said in disbelief, "I think it just tried to kick you."

"But … how? It's … so tiny still."

"I don't know," she whispered, a nervous smile lighting up her face.

Will slowly closed his eyes, his hand still pressed over her stomach. The grave reality of the situation hit him hard, and his heart was enraged with what he would have to say next. "Cara, listen to me," he said quickly and quietly, knowing their time was short. "We can't … we can't keep the baby."

His words nearly knocked her to the floor. "...What?"

"Cara, please listen to me." He was desperate, urgent. "This baby … if they know this baby exists … Cara, if this baby shares both of our DNA, then they will stop at _nothing _to see it destroyed."

"Will-"

"You have to abort it."

"No!"

"You have to, Cara." Will shut his eyes, fighting his tears. "You have to inject yourself with magnetite. It most likely won't die any other way. It won't hurt you, though."

"No!" Cara yelled, pushing away from the glass. "Will, this baby … this is _our_ baby!"

"Cara," Will's voice begged her, "there is _nothing_ more that I would want in this world than to share a life with you and child with you." He paused, praying she could understand the dangers he did. "But … I can't protect you, or the baby, from here. This baby … this baby is the most powerful being on earth if it shares our abilities. They will _kill you_ … they will destroy you and destroy the baby."

Cara shook her head. "No … I can't, Will. I can't. I can't kill it!"

Will rested his head on the glass, taking deep breaths to try to help himself relax. "Who knows?" he asked softly.

"No one," she lied, knowing the secret was safe with Gibson.

Will grimaced as he heard the guards approaching him. "Tell no one," he said firmly. "No one can know. No one!"

"I promise," Cara whispered.

"Cara, please ... consider-"

"No, Will! I won't do it!"

The door opened roughly on Will's side, and Will clawed at the glass, trying to maintain his contact with Cara. "No, damnit!" he yelled as the guards attempted to remove him from the room. He threw them off of himself, pressing his hands against the glass in front of Cara, desperate to touch her. More came, pushing him roughly to the ground as they chained him.

"Will!" Cara gasped, watching in horror, feeling so helpless.

"I'm not done!" Will screamed, trying to push against the several men who were on top of him. "CARA!"

"NO! WILL!" Cara screamed as the guards jabbed a needle into Will's arm as he fought, his voice fading as he was dragged away, her name from his lips ringing in her head as she fled the room in tears.

* * *

1:19 P.M. MST

They had gathered in urgency at that moment, despite their scheduled meeting three days later, just before the trial was to begin. Recent "information" that was said to have been obtained had elevated the need to meet, and so they traveled to the dark country club room they were now gathered in, smoke from cigars filling the room as they waited for the one who had called the meeting.

"He's late," a man with silver hair chomping on a toothpick muttered.

"Why couldn't this wait?" another man with a dark mustache questioned, impatient from being kept waiting as he pressed his spent cigar into the ashtray in front of him.

"He says what he knows will change our approach," a younger man with a gray suit explained.

"Our approach," the toothpick man replied, "is solid."

"Perhaps this information will serve more than one purpose," another darker-skinned man suggested.

"Perhaps. If he ever arrives," the man with the mustache sneered.

The door opened, and the four men in the room turned, reassured when they saw the fifth man enter. "We were kept waiting," the toothpick man said cooly.

"What I have will be worth the wait," the man who entered last replied, his face that of the bounty hunter that had been watching Will. He stepped confidently to the table in the center of the room, removing a white wrapper with pink lettering from his pocket, laying it on the mahogany. He smiled as the four others peered down at it.

"What is it?" the mustache man asked impatiently.

"A pregnancy test," the younger man answered.

"What is the significance of this?" the toothpick man asked.

"Why is this important?" the dark-skinned man chimed in.

"This was found in the Shield's apartment yesterday," the bounty hunter replied.

"The Shield?" the dark-skinned man said softly.

"What are the results?" the younger man asked.

"We will find out in a few days during the trial," the bounty hunter replied.

"Then what you're implying is that you believe, if it does exist, that it is William's?" the toothpick man asked.

The bounty hunter silently recalled Cara's state of undress when he kidnapped her weeks ago. "I am confident it is."

"If it is," the mustache man interrupted, "it will be more powerful than anything we've seen."

"It needs to be eliminated!" the toothpick man said firmly.

"And it will," the bounty hunter said, "but we need confirmation before we destroy her. Her DNA is still valuable to us."

"Then why haven't we retrieved what we need yet?" the mustache man questioned.

"We would never be able to work undisturbed with William still alive," the dark-skinned man noted.

"Then kill him. Kill his parents and we can begin our work. We can let the baby gestate and then study it before we destroy it," the mustache man suggested.

"Kill William's parents, and you turn his power against us," the toothpick man reminded.

"Kill William, and we lose him for our benefit," the younger man added.

"So we wait like sitting ducks, then?" the mustache man asked angrily.

"We wait," the bounty hunter said, "until we can have all three in our possession."

"And when will that be?" the mustache man demanded.

"When William has no other choice," the bounty hunter replied.

"He will be dangerous if the pregnancy is exposed during his trial. He's most likely trying to hide it," the younger man commented.

"I'm counting on his rage," the bounty hunter said firmly.

"His display of rage during the trial will further prove his guilt," the dark-skinned man said.

"He won't contain himself to the prison knowing she is carrying the child!" the mustache man argued.

"We don't want him there now," the bounty hunter explained. "This is our new approach."

"So then ... we let him flee?" the toothpick man asked.

"We let him believe he can hide and keep them safe, that is, until consequences are introduced," the bounty hunter explained.

"His hiding will give us mobility," the dark-skinned man added.

"Then we have the freedom to complete the project," the younger man concluded.

"And once we do," the bounty hunter explained, "then he will lose everything he has, and we will destroy him and the Shield and retain the child's power."


	15. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

February 22, 2012  
8:27 A.M. MST  
Byron G. Rogers Federal Courthouse  
Denver, CO

The group had made the trek up to Denver from their motel early the morning of the first day of Will's trial, each holding in their terrified thoughts of how the proceedings would begin. Though the trial wasn't set to begin until 9:00 A.M., everyone in the group concluded that they would like time to settle in and prepared themselves for the day, so they had arrived by 8:15 A.M. and began their inevitable wait.

Cara paced nervously outside of the courtroom, her heart pounding and her throat dry as she waited. She knew she wouldn't be speaking today, if at all - Will was adamant about not putting her on the stand, his lawyer finally agreeing to compromise with him that she would be used as an absolute last resource, since he was afraid of what Will would do it he didn't agree. She wanted so badly to defend him, but she knew he was scared for her to be cross-examined on the stand, especially now in light of the changed circumstances they kept secret. Will also justified his request based on the fact that he still thought Cara was with the Hoboken Police and wanted her to maintain her reputability there. He was still unaware that she had given up her badge and gun to devote herself to freeing him, and that she had been notified just the night before that her actions warranted a review under the board to determine her eligibility to continue to serve.

It wasn't the first time they had been in court together; they saw their fair share of the insides of courtrooms as expert witnesses for the cases they investigated, sometimes together and sometimes only there to support the other as a partner. Today, though, was far different - Will was being accused of murder, among other serious charges, and facing the death penalty for crimes he didn't commit. Today would begin a battle that had much higher stakes than ever before, the reality of which now caused her stomach to become sick.

Cara glanced down at her stomach briefly as she paced, the loose, eggplant colored silk top she opted for that day flowing over her midsection, hiding the reality of her pregnancy bloating that had already begun, rendering the button of her black pants useless. She felt like the development of this child was moving far faster than a normal pregnancy - the motion she felt inside of her was said to occur no earlier than 16 weeks, of which she still now had at least 10 before she reached. The nausea had kept her up most nights, her trips to the bathroom to vomit frequent. She was relieved that she had a private room in the motel, fearing she would have to lie and say she had a stomach virus otherwise.

It was the sound of chains clanking together that stopped her heart, immediately taking her attention from thoughts of hers and Will's child to Will himself, who she now saw entering with several armed guards around him. She watched from a distance as he caught her eye, holding her gaze from far across the building as he was roughly handled, now coming toward her. Her view of him was interrupted by Mulder and Scully, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, approaching Will with the boldness Cara couldn't find in herself in that moment. She watched as his attention was turned to his parents, Mulder arguing with the guards to allow them to touch him, the guards eventually complying when Mulder wouldn't rest his argument for the "indecency" and "offensive behavior" they were exhibiting. Cara's lips parted as she watched Scully wrap her arms around Will, who was bound thrice in full body chains, and saw how he tried to hold her as well, the restraints around his wrists making it nearly impossible. The hug he then shared with his father warmed her heart, as well as the gentle kiss Scully placed on his forehead.

As he approached her again, Cara felt an instant wave of panic running through her mind, knowing if she touched him that she wouldn't want to let go. Still, she approached him and the guards, throwing herself around him and feeling his hands flex in front of him, his face sinking into the curve between her shoulder and her neck. She felt his hand gently touch her stomach, his lips pressing lingering kisses on her flesh that was exposed in the nook where his face had rested. Cara pulled away, taking his face with her hands and urgently pressing her lips on his, her head spinning as he deepened the kiss, the sensual groan in his throat making her shiver. She didn't care if the guards were watching - her fingers slid up into his wild brown hair, trying to taste and feel every inch of him she could with longing desperation. It was as if her soul ached for the healing his touch and presence brought. He, too, was struck with fevered desire, continually deepening the kiss, silently cursing the metal that held his hands away from the softness of her skin, wanting to renew his spirit through feeling her under his fingertips.

Knowing they wouldn't willingly part, or perhaps just to exercise their authority over him, the guards who held Will yanked him roughly away from Cara, dragging him into the holding room as she watched helplessly, needing with every fiber of her being to be near him. She followed as she watched him struggle against them, his eyes locked on hers. She was intercepted quickly, a large security guard blocking her from going any further. "Miss, step back please," he warned, his voice deep. As much as she wanted to shove the guard and keep pursuing Will, she knew she couldn't risk the implications of it. She turned and walked away once they had slammed the door to the holding room, where Will had been tucked inside until the trial was to commence.

* * *

The time seemed to move slower than cold molasses, inching by with no sense of urgency like they each felt. The entire group had taken their place in the courtroom, the jurors assembling and the news reporters now crowding the room to capture the day's events. Cara was relieved when they finally left her alone, feeling helpless when the journalists initially attacked her with an onslaught of questions, tape recorders shoved near her mouth to capture her responses they hoped for. It was Mulder who interceded, protectively sheltering her and chasing them away with the aid of Will's defense attorney before she could speak. Now, as she sat next to Scully, Mulder on Scully's left, the feeling of helplessness returned as she watched in sadness Will being escorted by the guards to the box where he would remain in throughout the proceedings. Their eyes met, and she found it almost impossible not to get up and go to him; Scully's gentle hand that sensed her struggle and covered hers was the only thing holding her back.

"All rise." The bailiff's voice cut through the thick tension-ladened air. "This court is now in session. The honorable Judge Douglas M. Waters presiding."

Each person in the room dutifully stood, waiting as the intimidating man in a long black robe took his seat. "Please be seated," the bailiff said, allowing everyone to lower.

Judge Waters sighed, glancing down at the paperwork in front of him. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Calling the case of The Federal Government versus Van De Kamp. Are both sides ready?"

The prosecution and the defense attorneys stood. "Ready for the Government, Your Honor," the prosecutor said.

"Ready for the defense, Your Honor," Will's attorney said.

Cara watched breathlessly as the judge then instructed the clerk to swear in the jury, her eyes shifting to the men and women who would determine Will's innocence or guilt. Nothing had even happened yet, and she already felt like she was panicking.

The prosecutor stood, crossing over to the sworn-in jury to begin his opening arguments. "Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: the defendant, William Van De Kamp, has been charged with the crimes of second-degree murder, kidnapping, aggravated assault, arson, theft, battery, disorderly conduct and rape." He paused, turning to look at Will, who stared blankly back at him. "It goes without saying that this man has caused much damage to not only the security of our society, but to the country as a whole. The evidence you will see will show that William Van De Kamp strangled an innocent man to death after violently threatening the life of his police partner, only to kidnap her, rape her, beat her and nearly kill her by the means of exsanguination. These are actions of a man who hasn't a shred of humanity left in him. The evidence being presented will clearly show why William Van De Kamp is a danger to society and must be found guilty, deserving the harshest punishment for his crimes - death."

Cara shut her eyes, wishing she could run away at that very moment, her emotions raging out of control from her fears and as well as what she assumed were her hormones.

"Your Honor," the defense attorney greeted politely. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury: under the law, my client, William Van De Kamp, is presumed innocent until proven guilty. However, the prosecution would like to paint a colorful picture that obscures the facts, highlighting the gruesomeness of crimes William is falsely accused of for sensationalism's sake. During this trial, you will hear no real evidence against my client. You _will_ come to know the truth: that the actions William did take were in desperate attempts to keep safe those he loves, as well as to preserve his own life. The evidence will show a greater crime at work that William fought desperately to expose for the benefit of society, not to destroy it. William Van De Kamp is a police officer with an outstanding career record of duty, honor and service. Do not allow yourselves to fall victim to sensationalism without hearing the truth - that William Van De Kamp is innocent, deserving to be pardoned for his accused crimes."

The judge looked toward the prosecutor. "The prosecution may call its first witness."

The prosecutor stood. "The Government would like to call Doctor James Yates to the stand."

Hours ticked slowly by, person after person coming to the stand, swearing in and spelling their name for the record, recalling their encounters - either positive or negative - with Will, depending on who was asking. People from all walks of life testified - doctors and security guards from University Medical Hospital in Hoboken, guards from the Terminal, investigating officers from the New Jersey State Police, along with the submission of written testimonies of those who couldn't appear in court but still wanted their voices to be heard. Frequently through the sea of stories, accusations and false impressions, Cara would find Will gazing at her, relieved when he would offer her a tiny, almost undetectable smile of reassurance. It was as if he was more concerned for her than himself, which she knew would be inappropriately fitting for him.

* * *

The first recess was taken around lunch time, Scully practically begging Cara to eat something, concerned for the paleness they saw in her face. She felt Scully's eyes on her as she pushed the soup in her bowl around with her spoon, the bowl still three-fourths full and her sandwich beside it untouched. "Cara, you need to eat," Scully said gently, the maternal instincts she had getting the best of her. Scully often wondered where Cara's mother was and why, given all of the incredible circumstances her daughter had been through recently, she hadn't touched base with her in nearly three weeks.

"I know. I'm just not hungry," she murmured.

"You'll make yourself feel worse," Scully reminded. "I know … I know it's hard, but you have to stay strong for William, and not just figuratively."

Cara offered Scully a small smile, showing her appreciation for her concern. "Thank you," she replied, sighing as she brought the soup to her mouth, knowing the baby growing inside of her desperately needed her strength and focus on taking care of herself now, too.

"Cara …" Scully's voice was hesitant. "May I ask where your mother is?"

Cara sighed. "My mother … has never concerned herself much regarding my life."

"Because of the Project?"

"That, I guess, and because … I guess because of the energy my father poured into me through creating me as a Shield." Cara took a small bite of her sandwich and swallowed before she continued. "The only thing I can assume is that she became jealous of me. When I was home, she never bothered herself with me. She was always too busy."

"Has she contacted you recently?"

"No, and I honestly don't expect her to."

"I'm sorry," Scully said softly. "A few years ago, I lost my mother … it was actually what drove Mulder and me to move away from the east coast."

"I'm sorry," Cara offered.

"It's alright."

"Do you think any of this would have happened if you were able to find Will sooner?"

"Had I known of the danger William is in now, I would have never let him go to begin with."

"You did what you thought was best for him," Cara reassured.

"At the time, I guess it was." Scully sighed, smiling softly. "I'm just glad your father was able to care for him and help him. And I'm also very glad he has you in his life."

She couldn't help herself - Cara wrapped her arms around Scully, clutching onto her with all of the hopes and desires she had for her own mother, realizing now that she wanted this woman next to her take her place. In that moment, she wanted so desperately to tell Scully her secret, to tell her she would soon be able to hold a baby in her arms again, that she would witness the beautiful birth of her long-lost son's child. She shut her eyes and remained silent, knowing how that information would harm everyone rather than help, and she swallowed down her secret with regret.

"Did you say something?" Scully asked, gently pulling away from Cara, who shook her head.

"No," she replied softly.

"Oh. I could've sworn I heard you say something." Scully laughed. "Nevermind."

Cara gulped softly, her mind rushing to the child inside of her. Was the baby so much like William that it, too, could communicate with Scully? Had she just put her child in danger?

"Excuse me," Cara said abruptly, the burden of worry crushing her as she fled to the bathroom.

* * *

3:12 P.M. MST

"The defense would like to call Special Agent John Doggett to the stand."

Doggett stood tall, taking his place at the witness stand. The time had now come for the testimonies of those in defense of Will, followed by optional cross-examinations from the prosecutor. Many of the prosecution's star witnesses were brutally cross-examined by Will's attorney, the battle of innocence versus guilt seeming to be neck in neck, each attorney showing experience and confidence in the cases they argued.

Once Doggett was sworn in and spelled his last name for the record, he took his seat. "Agent Doggett," the attorney asked, "in your written testimony, you stated that you felt with absolute certainty that William Van De Kamp is innocent. Do you stand by that testimony?"

"Yes," Doggett replied firmly.

"Agent Doggett, you and Agent Monica Reyes were assigned to the FBI's 'X-Files' department several years ago, correct?"

"Yes."

"And that is where you met then Agent Dana Scully, correct?"

"Yes."

"Agent Doggett, would you please describe the nature of the work done on behalf of the X-Files during your period of assignment."

"Objection," the prosecutor interrupted. "Relevance?"

"Your Honor," the defense argued, "in relating this past experience to the court, the jury will begin to understand the deeper connections this case holds in several areas."

"Such as?" the judge asked.

"Such as the misuse and secret allocations of Government funds to promote experimental genetic projects involving civilian children, like William Van De Kamp."

"Your Honor," the prosecutor stood, "the defense's attempt to muddy the waters of the true issues at hand is insulting to the court. This isn't the Twilight Zone."

"If I may," Will's attorney interrupted, "I would like to take the short liberty to bridge this connection for the sake of overall clarity."

The judge eyed Will's attorney. "Overruled," he said firmly to the prosecutor, though his focus was on the defense attorney. "Agent Doggett, you may answer the question."

"The nature of my work on the X-Files was to support Agent Scully in investigating cases involving unexplained phenomena."

"Agent Doggett, one of these such cases was the investigation of the deaths of Carl Wormus and Roland McFarland, correct?"

"Yes."

"Please describe to the court the details of the investigation."

"Carl Wormus and Roland McFarland were both killed by Shannon McMahon, a genetically engineered soldier who exposed herself to the FBI to provide us evidence as to-"

"Objection!" the prosecutor said, shaking his head. "Your Honor, this testimony regarding the X-Files is an insulting cloak and dagger approach that has no relevance to the charges!"

"Your Honor, with your permission, Agent Doggett will be able to quickly summarize the connection of the X-Files to William Van De Kamp without any further interruptions," the defense argued.

"Overruled," the judge repeated, "and I will advise the prosecution to allow proper time of establishment without further objections based on opinion."

"Yes, Your Honor," the prosecution said, sitting in his seat with annoyance.

"You may continue, Agent Doggett," the judge said, looking at Doggett.

"Carl Wormus and Roland McFarland were both found, as documented by Agent Reyes and myself, to be involved in laboratory projects, housing human ova on a ship called _Valor Victory_ which had been extracted from test subjects and manipulated for transplantation in the attempts to create genetically-engineered soldiers."

"Please describe to the court the relevance regarding William Van De Kamp."

"It was also documented that Agent Scully's ova had been mutated in such a fashion, resulting in William Van De Kamp, who was later given up for adoption to ensure his safety against those who attempted to destroy him."

"Agent Doggett, then, you are saying that William Van De Kamp was intentionally genetically modified?"

"Yes, for the purpose to serve a shadow government who will-"

"Objection, Your Honor," the prosecution stood. "This is ludicrous!"

"Your Honor, we are prepared to show complete genetic evidence of the existence of this program through William Van De Kamp, as well as other counter-measures created."

"This case is regarding a man's death, theft, arson and rape, not bogus theories that are demeaning to the court and offensively slanderous against the Federal Government!"

"Order!" the judge banged his gavel, eyeing the two arguing attorneys. A tension-filled silence washed over the room, and Cara held her breath. "The objection is overruled," the judge finally said. "You may continue, Agent Doggett," he directed, much to the prosecution's and Mulder's surprise.

"William Van De Kamp is the first organically created genetically-engineered soldier, conceived in a womb medically-proven to be barren," Doggett continued.

"So Agent Doggett," Will's attorney said, "the purpose of creating these soldiers is …?"

"The purpose is to replace people in positions of power, using indestructible men and women as weapons against the people of the world."

"Is that William Van De Kamp's purpose?"

"No," Doggett clarified. "William Van De Kamp, though structured similarly in genetic makeup, has never worked against the people. As the lead investigating officer of the accused charges, I have found no conclusive evidence that William has ever operated maliciously with the intent of endangering society. All evidence gathered during the investigation supports his innocence."

"No further questions," the defense attorney said, sitting down.

"Agent Doggett," the prosecutor said, standing. "How is the dead body of a renown doctor, last seen alive observing a man who injured the five people he was in the room with, evidence of this man's innocence?"

"William's fingerprints were not found the victim," Doggett replied.

"But his fingerprints were over several areas of the crime scene?"

"Yes, but the prints we found were consistent with-"

"So what's to say he didn't, say, slip a pair of gloves on? They're more than accessible in a hospital."

"No gloves were recovered with his prints, nor were his prints on the box inside of the room that would have been most accessible."

"Agent Doggett, would you agree that your previous professional relationship with William Van De Kamp's mother, Dana Scully, has influenced your investigation and the related findings?"

"No. I investigated this case with the same objectivity and thoroughness I have with all of my previous cases I have assigned, regardless of association."

"Agent Doggett, is it true that William Van De Kamp experienced a severe episode of violence against several prison guards during his detainment, endangering them as well as himself through his actions?"

"William's actions were not intended to harm, rather they were an expression of his fear, as he believed that, through receiving an anonymous correspondence, his partner's life was being threatened."

"His partner, Caraline English?" When the prosecutor turned and looked at Cara, she felt a wave of nausea overcome her.

"Yes."

"And what was the nature of this correspondence?"

"It was a photograph of her, torn in half so only her image remained, dipped in blood and soaked in her perfume."

"And how did he receive this alleged photograph? I will remind the court that no such evidence has been recovered."

"It was given to him discreetly through unofficial means."

"So William, having displayed violence to his partner in Hoboken, escaping a secured mental research ward after killing a doctor-"

"Objection!" the defense attorney said sharply. "Heresay. My client is innocent until proven guilty."

"Sustained," the judge ruled.

"I'll rephrase," the prosecutor said, eyeing Doggett. "So essentially what you're claiming, Agent Doggett, as lead investigating officer, is that though William racked up a horrendous amount of charges of assault, battery, murder, theft, kidnapping, arson and disorderly conduct over the last few weeks, that his destructive and violent reaction to a piece of evidence that has not yet been recovered is justified because of the fear he felt for an anonymous and supposed 'threat' to his partner, who he not only kidnapped, but raped and tried to kill?"

"Objection! The prosecution is out of line with his allegations of my client!"

Cara glanced over at Will and saw the darkness building in his eyes at the prosecutor's accusations of what he thought Will had done to her.

"Sustained," the judge said. "The jury will disregard the prosecution's last question to Agent Doggett."

The prosecutor smiled, stepping away from the witness stand where Doggett sat, agitated at the tactics the lawyer in front of him was using. "No further questions," the lawyer said, returning to his desk.

"Agent Doggett, you may step down," the judge instructed. Doggett caught Will's eyes as he returned to his seat, seeing the young man's small nod of appreciation.

"Your Honor, the defense calls Dana Scully to the stand."

As Will's attorney called Scully to the stand in an effort to support Doggett's claims with a scientific review of Wesson's genetics, Cara turned sharply toward the prosecution, feeling the co-counsel's eyes locked on her. The co-counsel hadn't been present during the beginning testimonies, and initially Cara thought nothing of it, knowing that lawyers often entered proceedings as co-counsel after the trial started. However, now as she caught his stare, she cleared her throat softly, turning back to watch Scully, hearing the child inside of her warning her there was danger present. Tried as she might, she couldn't help but to sneak another glance at the co-counsel, who smiled, turning away from her, causing chills to run up her spine.

"Doctor Scully," Will's attorney began after Scully was sworn in, "please share with the court your medical background as well as the nature of your work as an FBI agent."

"I worked as a doctor of Forensic Pathology, assigned to the X-Files in 1993 with Agent Fox Mulder. I was largely responsible for scientifically substantiating evidence from the unexplained phenomena in the cases we worked."

"Cases such as the Shannon McMahon case?"

"Yes."

"Please describe for the court your medical findings regarding the testimony given by Agent Doggett regarding the experimental genetic modification of humans."

"I autopsied the body of Brody Wesson, a New York Police Department detective and law enforcement officer of 15 years, who claimed he was used in multiple experiments during his adolescence, including claims of genetic modification under the veil of an operation called 'The Shield Project'."

"Please describe for the court the purpose of this covert project, according to this witness' testimony."

"The Shield Project was designed as a counter-measure to the ongoing project of human replacement through genetic modification that Shannon McMahon had attempted to expose before her apparent death. The original genetic modifications were said to have begun as early as the 1950s, the technology and urgency developing with the times."

"Objection." The prosecutor stood. "Heresay. None of this information is documented for the court."

"Sustained," the judge replied.

"Doctor Scully, what were your findings during your autopsy of Brody Wesson?"

"Brody Wesson's DNA was found to contain specialized cells not found otherwise in humans - chromatophores which loosely resemble that of a chameleon. These cells contain pigments in their cytoplasm, and are layered in such a fashion that it causes the person with such DNA to have a natural shielding ability against the genetically modified soldiers, whose DNA have been scientifically proven to contain chromosomes of unknown origin that allow for powers proven beyond human capability."

"The court would like to submit Doctor Scully's findings as Exhibit A." The defense attorney handed Scully's medical report to the bailiff, who then gave it to the judge. "Please describe these powers."

"Phenomena such as telepathy, telekinesis, psychic ability and extra-sensory perception have been observed."

"In your expert medical opinion, would you say these chromosomes of unknown origin would be extraterrestrial?"

"Objection!" the prosecutor said without standing. "Move to strike. If the chromosomes have already been identified as being from quote 'unknown origin' unquote, then isn't it impossible to prove them to be something that has yet to be proven?"

"Sustained," the judge ruled.

"Doctor Scully," the defense attorney continued, "were there any other findings during your examination?"

"Yes," Scully replied. "Upon examining Detective Wesson's body, I discovered a peculiar amount of bone density in all of the long bones of his body which is inconsistent with average human development, accounting for natural growth spurts which on average begin at age 12 in males."

"Why is this finding significant?"

"It supports the claim of a sub-layer of the Project and validates the implication and effectiveness of a 'development serum' of sorts said to rapidly have aged the subjects who were tested."

"Including Detective Wesson himself?"

"Yes."

"Objection," the prosecution interrupted. "Relevance?"

"Your Honor," the defense replied, "it is our intent to show a scientifically-proven connection through relating these medical findings to William Van De Kamp."

"Overruled," the judge said, but then added to the defense, "but get there quickly."

"Yes, Your Honor." The defense attorney turned back to Scully. "Doctor Scully, the medical records which are now submitted as Exhibit B, reflect what year as William Van De Kamp's birth year?"

"2001."

"Let the record reflect as such, highlighted on verified official medical records now being submitted." The attorney paused. "That would make William Van De Kamp approximately 11 years old, correct?"

"Without being administered the serum, yes."

"Yet, on documents provided before trial, as well as federal processing of William Van De Kamp, it is noted through a blood test conducted before his detainment while in federal custody that William Van De Kamp, age 25, is, in fact, your biological son."

"Yes."

"Objection. How are we to know that William Van De Kamp isn't a child from a previous period of Doctor Scully's life?" the prosecution argued.

"Your Honor, there are no such medical records indicating that Doctor Scully has ever conceived or carried more than one child," the defense argued back.

"Your Honor, what about surrogacy? Surely the ova that was supposedly mutated could have been implanted into another woman's womb!"

"Your Honor, Agent Reyes serves as a sworn witness to the birth of William Van De Kamp in 2001 in Democrat Hot Springs, Georgia. Doctor Scully's hospital records will reflect her admission to a Georgia hospital after Agent Reyes delivered the child."

"The objection is sustained based on grounds of inconclusiveness of the evidence submitted," the judge said, disappointing Mulder as he watched.

The defense continued. "Doctor Scully, due to your inability to examine William's bone density, how can it be concluded that William is a genetic anomaly?"

"The blood that was retrieved from William Van De Kamp was shown to have contained the same chromosomes from unknown origin, as well as significantly less iron than those classified as iron-deficient or anemic. However, he is in no way affected by the lack of iron and is otherwise in superb health, which is consistent with the pattern of those thought to be genetically-modified."

"Thank you, Doctor Scully. No further questions."

Scully watched carefully as the prosecution approached her. "Doctor Scully," he began, "can you prove that William was given this covert, experimental serum?"

"Without examining his bone density, I can't medically conclude unless-"

"Doctor Scully, please explain to the court who Emily Sims is."

Scully froze, glancing at Mulder, who pursed his lips in anger at the prosecution. "Emily Sims … was my daughter."

Cara heard the furious scrambling of the reporters behind her capturing the information on their notepads, her heart stopping as she saw Scully's pained expression. "She died, correct?" the prosecution asked coldly.

Scully paused. "Yes. However, I did not conceive her naturally," she explained. "She was conceived outside of my womb with an ova that had been harvested illegally from me for the purpose of-"

"So you are agreeing that you, in fact, did have another child previous to William Van De Kamp?" the prosecution asked.

"Yes, but-"

"Let the record reflect that the defense's previous statement of Doctor Scully having no other children besides the accused is invalid." The prosecution smiled at Scully. "Thank you, Doctor Scully, that is all. No further questions."

Defeated, Scully returned to her seat beside Mulder and felt his hand cover hers as it lay on her lap. The gentle squeeze she felt didn't reassure her, like she knew it had been intended to, her eyes falling on her adult son who sat stoically in his small box flanked by armed guards, the shifting of his hands bound in chains breaking her heart.

"This court is adjourned until tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, in which we will hear the rest of the defense's testimonies before deliberation begins" the judge decided, swiftly banging his gavel.

"They just want him to burn at the stake, Scully. They don't want the truth," Mulder said softly, the noises increasing around them as people began to talk, reporters rushing toward Will's attorney.

Cara tried to approach Will, who was being led out of his box he had been seated in. "Hey!" she yelled at the guards. "Wait! HEY!" The guards peered at her, choosing to ignore her as they dragged Will further away. Cara saw Will shake his head gently at her, watching as his lips mouthed "I love you" as he disappeared out of the courtroom.

Enraged, Cara left the courtroom, needing to get away from the building as fast as she could.

"Caraline English, is it true that William Van De Kamp threatened your life on multiple occasions?"

Cara was stunned as the reporter jammed a microphone in her face, shocked as she eyed the journalist and the camera person with her that had been waiting outside of the courtroom. "No," she said firmly. "Will never threatened my life."

"The testimony of several witnesses all agree that William Van De Kamp held a gun on you in an unprovoked rage in the middle of a crowded transportation hub."

"It wasn't unprovoked! He _was _provoked … by men who were trying to flush him out to kill him."

"So you agree that William Van De Kamp is a danger to society?"

"No, that's not what I said!"

"Miss English-"

"Hey, back off. No comment," Mulder said firmly, stepping in front of Cara, pushing the camera away roughly without concern. Taking Cara, he guided her away from the reporters, Scully taking Cara's hand as she aided him in removing her from the ravenous media that had attacked her.

Once outside and in a safe distance, Mulder spun Cara around, fuming. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked Cara angrily.

"What the hell am _I _doing?" Cara asked. "What the hell are _they _doing? They're the ones twisting the story!"

"Cara, those people don't care about the truth!" Mulder argued. "All they care about is a good news segment or headline that will sell papers and gain a viewing audience."

"We have to do something! We can't let them destroy him!"

"_We will _do something, Cara," Mulder replied, "but _not _with those people." Mulder held her eyes for a moment, trying to find patience for the young woman in front of him who reminded him so much of himself so many years ago. "Cara, these people will use your belief in William against you if you're not careful. Don't be so blinded by your belief that you forget you're in the minority."

"I can't sit by and watch him take all of these accusations!"

"For right now, you have to," Mulder said softly, taking her by the shoulders. "Right now, our best offense is a factual defense."

"We _do _have facts!"

"Not to them, Cara. All we have are paranoid theories according to them."

Cara shook her head. "What happened to you?" she asked. "You know, the reputation of the X-Files and the tenacity which they were investigated went a lot further than the FBI academy. I respected the work that was done, whether it was said to be a myth or not … and I respected the people who were dedicated to doing it." Cara's eyes narrowed at Mulder.

"And it's that same tenacity for the truth that you have that will hurt you if you're not careful," Mulder explained gently. "I still want the truth to be known, Cara. I always will." He gently removed his hands from her shoulders with a sigh. "But it has to be on our terms. Not theirs."

Scully watched carefully, observing how Cara absorbed his advice. "When will the truth be known?" she heard Cara ask softly.

"When there's no other alternative," Mulder said sadly. "Until then, those who will believe are far and few in between."


	16. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

February 23, 2012  
6:01 A.M. MST  
Near Florence, CO

Mulder smiled down at Scully, watching her as she slept soundly, knowing that the precious moments she was able to sleep couldn't be disturbed. She needed the rest. His mind ran circles around their nineteen years together, recalling in the dimly-lit room with fondness the first case they worked together and her impromptu visit to his motel room one evening, clad in only her underwear underneath the robe she was wrapped in. She had been scared of what she thought were the marks like the victims' they had witnessed, and trusted him to check. Though it would be many years after that they would consummate their relationship, he knew from that instant that she would remain a constant in his life, unsuccessfully trying to remove the image of her petite body so scantily clad from that moment until they did.

Today was her birthday. She was 48 today. He had grand plans of taking her away for a romantic spur-of-the-moment trip to somewhere far away from Oregon, buying her a sweet cake to indulge in and slipping a beautiful diamond ring on her finger. All that remained was the ring - once Will entered the picture weeks ago, the rest went by the wayside in an attempt to help their long-lost son. Now, as he lay on his side, carefully running his fingers through her long strawberry blonde hair, he knew nothing would be as easy as the trip away would have been. Nothing was as simple as they had attempted to make it for several years now. Their lives had been forever altered, grateful for the opportunity to meet their son but also devastated at the thought of losing him all over again.

Scully stirred, feeling Mulder's eyes on her as she usually did. He rarely slept well, and she knew especially now that sleep wouldn't be possible for him. She slowly opened her eyes, smiling as Mulder pressed a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry I woke you," he whispered. She reached her face to him, sharing a gentle kiss with him. "Happy Birthday, Dana," he whispered.

She had forgotten about her birthday, the events of the recent weeks consuming her to the point of near madness. Trivial things, such as her 48th birthday, weren't at the top of her priority list. Still, she felt a smile spread on her face at the thought of Mulder remembering - he had remembered for the both of them. "Thank you," she replied, watching him as he turned toward his bag on the floor next to them, still laying half in bed as he fumbled around for something in it.

When he retrieved it, his grin made her laugh, the proud boyish smile he gave her warming her heart as if they had just started dating. "I had bigger plans for this," he said, pulling her up to sit up with him in the bed. "It involved kidnapping you, which now I realize is entirely ironic … But I want you to still have this."

Her eyebrow arched as he placed a small material-covered black box in her hand, opening the lid for her. She closed her eyes after seeing the beautiful diamond-encrusted band resting inside. She smiled, a tear escaping her eye as she felt Mulder slip it on her left ring finger. "I love you, Scully," he whispered. "I'm … I'm sorry this never really happened …"

"Mulder," she whispered, stroking his face with her newly-jeweled hand, "we don't need a piece of paper."

"I always wanted to give you the life you deserved, Scully," Mulder said with a sigh. "The little cape cod with the white picket fence and the flea-ridden dog and the spoiled rugrats who would later steal our car and drink underage at wild parties they were forbidden to go to." He laughed softly when he heard her laugh.

"Oh, Mulder," Scully said, a wide smile lighting up her eyes, "if we had that life, we probably would've killed each other by now."

"The dog definitely would've been the first to go."

"As long as it wasn't by an alligator."

"Poor Queequeg."

Scully leaned in, kissing Mulder sensually on the lips. His hands roamed over her silk-pajama-clad body, silently wishing that all of this was behind them for just one moment, for just one glorious moment, to not be chased by evils from all directions, darkness lurking around every conceivable corner. Mulder pulled away reluctantly, pressing his forehead against Scully's. "I wish … I wish I-"

"Mulder," she interrupted, hoping to reassure him of her love for him, regardless of their past.

"I wish that mother-fucking bee never stung you," he mumbled. "Then maybe this wouldn't have all happened."

"It will be okay," she whispered, her fingers lacing into his dark hair.

"They don't believe in him, Scully. They don't believe any of it. They're allowing the testimony to make us look like fools."

"I know."

"Scully … I can't sit back and let it happen how they want."

"I was counting on that."

Mulder drew away from Scully. "Mulder," she continued, looking into his eyes, "from the moment I knew I was pregnant with William, I knew things would never be the same. When we found out he was looking for us, I knew that everything had to be given up. Every trivial domestic desire fulfilled could never compare to being a family again."

"Are you saying …"

"What I'm saying is, Mulder … I'm willing to risk it all. I'm willing to lose it all to gain him back in our lives."

Mulder tucked her hair behind her ear. "It's a long road you want to travel, Scully."

"As long as I'm with you, it doesn't matter."

"She will need to agree, too."

"I'm pretty sure it's a miracle that they are currently separated somewhat successfully."

"Do you think William will want that for her?"

"I think … I think William will want what I want." She kissed his cheek. "And that's to be with the ones you love."

Mulder nodded. "We don't tell the others for now," he murmured. "We need to see how the day goes."

"I think we know how it will go," Scully reminded gently.

"I know," he replied, his voice soft. "I guess I just need to prepare myself to start running again."

* * *

Byron G. Rogers Federal Courthouse  
9:08 A.M. MST  
Denver, CO

The urgency Cara shared with the others the day before was replaced with a hesitation, realizing that it was the court's intention to end the proceedings today, allowing the jury to deliberate after only two days worth of testimonies. Whereas things hadn't seemed to move quickly enough before, now the world appeared to be spinning wildly on its axis, barely giving them each enough time to come to the reality that Will might, in fact, be found guilty and be sentenced to death.

With only Mulder's, Skinner's and Reyes' testimonies remaining, plus Gibson as a wildcard for scientific evidence, Cara knew that, despite Will's best attempts to shelter her from the trial, she was needed in the witness stand, her testimony a critical element to ensuring his freedom.

She hadn't slept the night before - she assumed no one really did, or not much at least - and was running on pure nervous adrenaline as she sat and watched the proceedings for that day begin, her eyes following Skinner as he took his place in the witness stand. She listened to his careful re-calculations of both a time she wasn't present for - aiding Scully to flee to safety for Will's birth - as well as the events of only a few days prior, recalling in vivid detail the compound, the men who attacked them, as well as Gibson's involvement, which warranted him the next place in line to testify, after the prosecution tried to rip Skinner apart, that is.

Gibson was accompanied by medical evidence, his abilities recorded and proven, fascinating the court reporters who clung onto the idea of a mind-reading young man for their latest online news updates. The prosecution tried to dissect Gibson, attempting to throw him off-course several times, but Cara smiled when she witnessed his silent strength, admiring his ability to be cool and collected while under pressure.

Reyes' testimony was full of fact and heart, recounting the hunt for Will that she and Doggett conducted shortly after Cara and Will left their Virginia home, fleeing to Oregon. Cara admired the way Reyes held her ground, not being deterred by the prosecution as the attorney tried to pick apart the details of her words, using whatever he could against her.

With other written testimonies submitted, the only witness that remained on the list was Mulder. Cara unsure if her last-resort presence was even needed; their case was strong, she felt. She was gaining more confidence in the defense that was presented, and prayed the jury was too.

"The defense calls Fox Mulder to the stand."

Mulder stood, giving a small nod to Cara and Scully, making his way to the stand. The all-too-familiar walk to the chair that was designated for him made him sick, knowing now it was his son's life at risk with what he would answer. "Please raise your right hand," the clerk instructed." Mulder raised it, his eyes fixed on Scully's. "Do you swear that the testimony you shall give in the case before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," he said, his eyes still locked on Scully's.

"Please state your first and last name, spelling your last name after for the record."

"Fox Mulder. M-U-L-D-E-R."

"Please be seated."

The defense approached Mulder after the clerk's instructions. "Mr. Mulder, recalling your decades of work on the X-Files for the FBI, please tell the court the significance of a substance called 'Purity' in your field reports?"

"Purity, otherwise referred to as 'black oil', is an alien virus that thrives in petroleum deposits underground on Earth. The virus is capable of entering humanoids and assuming control of their bodies. It is sentient and is capable of communicating. It is the 'life force' of the alien colonists, which they seemingly use to reproduce their kind, as well as infect other alien races for domination purposes."

"Objection," the prosecution said loudly, standing with disgust, "Relevance? What does this hokey bit of science fiction have to do with the case being tried?"

"Your Honor, Mr. Mulder's testimony regarding this element of his work in the FBI will bridge the connection to William Van De Kamp in great clarity, as well as support other testimony given over the course of these proceedings," the defense attorney argued.

"Overruled," the judge said. "You may continue, Mr. Mulder."

"In 1945," Mulder continued, "a squadron of P-51 Mustang airplanes escorted a B-29 transporting a nuclear bomb similar to those used on Japan during World War II. However, the B-29 and its accompanying squadron of aircraft crashed in the Pacific Ocean after they had a hostile encounter with a UFO that also crashed."

"Objection, move to strike the witness' last statement regarding a UFO. Without documented evidence, this information being touted as 'fact' is merely heresay," the prosecution interrupted.

"Sustained," the judge agreed. "The jury will disregard Mr. Mulder's testimony regarding an encounter with a UFO."

Mulder was undeterred by the instruction, continuing his testimony without change. "In 1995, the UFO that had crashed with the squadron of US airplanes was recovered by an American salvage ship named the _Talapus_. While the UFO was secretly taken and secured, the black oil remained within the Pacific Ocean."

"Objection!" the prosecutor said sharply. "Mr. Mulder's previous testimony regarding the UFO was stricken and therefore not allowed in further accounts."

"Sustained," the judge said, turning his attention to Mulder, who seemed unphased. "You will refrain from further testimony regarding unidentified flying objects, Mr. Mulder."

Barely missing a beat, Mulder continued. "In 1996, the French salvage ship _Piper Maru_ was on a mission to locate the sunken squadron of airplanes when a diver, Bernard Gauthier, discovered one of the planes. Upon Gautheir's resurfacing, the crew members consequently suffered from an usually high rate of absorption of radiation and were admitted to San Diego Naval Hospital. Their symptoms included spontaneous internal bleeding in the mouths and intestinal tracts, blood in the urine and severe delirium."

"Objection, Your Honor - the Government would like to know the relevance of such an egregious tale." The prosecution stood, eyeing Mulder.

"Sustained," the judge said, directing his attention to the defense attorney. "Make your connection quickly, counselor."

"Yes, Your Honor," the defense attorney replied. "Mr. Mulder, please tell the court the significance of Purity as it relates to William Van De Kamp."

"The genetic anomalies found in William Van De Kamp's DNA are consistent with the biology of a form of Purity, as documented by Doctor Scully. Typically in this form, the virus puts the host into a near-death state while it grows a 'replacement' inside them, which later emerges by means of shedding the previous skin. However, William is unique in that no other human has retained both their human selves without replacement while also sharing the biology of this particular DNA."

Scully sighed deeply as Mulder's testimony was objected to again while he spoke midstream, listening as he continued passionately on without a second thought. She knew Mulder's words were falling on disbelieving, deaf ears; she closed her eyes as she heard the judge sustain the objection after banging his gavel to silence Mulder, her heart sinking as she realized they were losing ground rapidly.

"Counselor," she heard the judge say to the defense attorney, "you will direct your witness to refrain from further mention of this line of testimony, or else be held in contempt of court."

Cutting his losses, the defense attorney backed down. "No further questions."

The prosecutor stood, smiling as he approached Mulder with his hands in his pockets. "You don't really believe all that stuff, do you Mr. Mulder?" he asked.

"I believe in 'this stuff' regardless of the arrogance of those who refuse to listen," Mulder quipped, and Scully winced, knowing his temper was beginning to flare, which would cause him to react just as irrationally as the young woman who sat next to her.

"Mr. Mulder, what is your relationship to the defendant?"

"I'm his father," Mulder replied with an air of pride.

"And to date, what has your relationship been like with your son?"

"William was given up for adoption for his safety when he was an infant. I was only reunited with him last month."

"Weren't you there when he was born? Or when he was an infant?"

"Not for long."

"Where were you, Mr. Mulder?"

"I was in hiding. My life was being threatened and I thought it best to remove myself from William and his mother to ensure their safety."

"But then," the prosecutor said, turning to Mulder, "your lover, Dana Scully, gave up this supposed 'miracle child' without your consent."

"She did what she knew was best for William's well-being," Mulder replied, his tone dark.

"So would you agree that you haven't had much time at all to even establish a relationship with the defendant?"

"William is my son."

"Yes, we've established that, Mr. Mulder. However, genetics do not make up for personal contact."

"I know my son." Scully swallowed, watching the anger rise in Mulder as he was cross-examined. She glanced over at Will, who bore the same angry expression as his father, and silently prayed they both would contain themselves.

"How can you know someone and testify in defense of their character after only briefly knowing them?" the prosecution continued, attacking Mulder's credibility.

"I can attest to the great lengths my son went to to ensure his partner's safe return," Mulder replied.

"His fingerprints covered the motel room Caraline English was taken from, and several witnesses placed him at the scene, testifying that it was, in fact, William Van De Kamp who left that morning with Miss English. Security camera footage also recorded his departure with Miss English."

"It wasn't him."

"Or how about the bruising found on Miss English's neck, consistent with the size and shape of William Van De Kamp's hands? What about the bruising on Miss English's pelvis and the residual semen that was found on her and was identified as William Van De Kamp's?"

A startled gasp washed over the courtroom as Will stood, violently pulling against his chains. "You son of a bitch!" Will yelled, wrestling with the armed guards who restrained him. His eyes were wild with anger, his heart racing at the accusations.

"Mr. Van De Kamp, be seated!" the judge ordered, banging his gavel at Will. "Counselor, control your client!"

Mulder caught Will's eyes, trying to tell him silently to relax, that his outburst wasn't in his favor. He saw the pain in his son's eyes, and he turned back to the prosecution. "William has never, and would never, hurt Caraline," he stated sharply.

"Mr. Mulder, have you witnessed William experiencing psychotic tendencies, as displayed now for the court?"

"His actions are justified-"

"Subjecting a young woman to rape and asphyxiation is never justified, Mr. Mulder," the prosecution stated, cutting Mulder off. "No further questions."

Livid, Mulder crossed back to his seat next to Scully, who tried to reassure him in the same manner as he had the day before, her small hand sliding onto his arm. She felt the tension in his muscles, knowing the anger she continued to see on Will's face across from her was an inherited trait from his father, who now barely kept his cool as the defense attorney requested a brief recess. It was granted, and Will was dragged away, Cara observing in shock the entire scene, feeling the ability to speak disappear as her heart sank.

Will's attorney approached Mulder, pulling him aside as the activity buzzed in the courtroom, and Scully remained with Cara, knowing the lawyer was advising him of the importance of Cara's testimony. Mulder rejoined them after a few moments passed, bending down to keep his words discreet between Scully and Cara. "Cara, your testimony is imperative," he said. "Walker is going to talk to William now."

Cara nodded. "I'm ready."

"Keep your answers concise," Mulder advised. "The prosecution will use whatever they can to rip you apart."

"So I gathered."

Looking her in the eye, Mulder asked softly, "No matter what, Cara, tell the truth. Any deviation from it is exactly what they're looking for to use against you."

"Well, it just so happens that as a former cop, I'm in the business of upholding the law." Cara managed a small smile. "So perjury isn't at the top of my list."

Mulder patted her shoulder, watching her as she excused herself to the bathroom. "She'll be alright, Mulder," Scully said gently, seeing his concern.

"I'm more worried about William at this point," he replied.


	17. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Cara clung to the toilet in the stall of the public bathroom, her face hovering over the porcelain as she felt the bile rise in her throat, trying to be discreet as she threw up. She had checked that no one else was in the bathroom, scanning the bottom of the stalls before slipping in the one furthest from the door, knowing that both the baby growing inside of her and her growing fear for Will got the best of her. She breathed deeply, trying to ignore the second wave of nausea she felt as she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the results of her morning sickness and terror in the toilet. The reality of the situation had a strong grip on her, and she needed to clear her mind quickly before the half-hour recess was over.

She balled up some toilet tissue, wiping her mouth as she continued to kneel, her eyes still closed as she tried to calm herself. Yet, the worries she felt couldn't be contained, and she gripped the toilet harder in an attempt to stop the sickness that eventually overcame her once again.

Cara froze, her mouth hovering over the toilet as she heard the door to the bathroom open. Tried as she might, she couldn't control the heave that she had attempted to stop when she heard the noise, releasing the bile into the water. She was now terrified at who might have witnessed her throwing up, praying it wasn't a reporter or even worse, Scully. As quickly as possible, she wiped her mouth and tossed the tissue into the mess she had made in the bowl, flushing it away as she listened to the woman who took up a stall a few away from her, hearing the distinct flushing sound of the other toilet.

She couldn't decide whether it looked worse to hide in the stall, knowing the other woman heard her being sick, or to come out and expose herself as the woman who had been sick, clearly heard in the bathroom moments ago. Knowing there was preciously little time left to return to the courtroom, and not hearing the woman exit the stall, Cara sighed with deep regret and opened her stall door, rushing to the sink to wash her hands. She had hoped she could slip out of the bathroom without being seen, but grumbled in the silence of her mind when she saw the other woman's stall open, the smartly-dressed middle-aged female stepping toward the sink. While washing her hands, as Cara crossed near her to retrieve paper towels, the woman looked at her. "Are you alright, miss?" she asked in a gentle voice. "I'm sorry to be forward, but I couldn't help but hear your trouble a bit ago."

"I'm fine, thank you," Cara said quickly, avoiding the woman's eyes.

"I know nerves get the best of everyone sometimes," the woman continued. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Cara swallowed, feeling the woman next to her now as she reached for her own paper towels, drying her hands. "Thank you for your concern," Cara said politely, regretfully catching the woman's eyes with her own. Her lips parted, a feeling of discomfort rushing over her as she looked at the woman. Turning quickly, Cara ducked out of the restroom, her heart racing with renewed fear over the gaze she held with the woman, the same chills running up her spine as she had felt when she met eyes with the co-counsel.

* * *

Inside the bathroom, still drying her hands, the middle-aged woman smiled, tossing the paper towels into the garbage with satisfaction as she slipped out of the restroom, her face and body discreetly shifting into the image he had taken on of the co-counsel.

* * *

"The defense calls Caraline English to the stand."

Stepping to the witness stand with all of the outward show of bravery she could muster, Cara turned, facing the clerk. "Please raise your right hand," the clerk instructed. "Do you swear that the testimony you shall give in the case before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," she said confidently, feeling Will's eyes locked on her to her right.

"Please state your first and last name, spelling your last name after for the record."

"Caraline English. E-N-G-L-I-S-H."

"Please be seated."

Cara straightened up in her seat a little as the defense attorney approached her. "Good afternoon, Miss English."

"Good afternoon."

"For the court, please describe your relationship to the defendant."

"I've known Will since I was 18, so for seven years now. We met at the Bergen County Police Academy in New Jersey in 2005. We were in the same graduating class."

"What was your first impression of William?"

_A recluse who barely talked to anyone, _Cara immediately thought. "He was well-liked by most everyone."

"Including yourself?" the defense attorney asked.

"We … our personalities seemed to compliment each other."

"And at 18-years-old, what was William like?"

"The same as he is today: caring, brave, honest, and trustworthy." Cara glanced over at Will briefly, then back to the attorney. "Everything one would want in a police officer."

"Did he have family?"

"Neither of us did at that time. Mine was estranged, and he was under the impression that his parents died in Wyoming. He lived with an aunt briefly, until she passed from cancer."

The defense attorney turned, pacing away from Cara. "Describe the incident whereas William was injured in the academy."

"He was beaten brutally by several male recruits during Hell Week on an off-duty period after a tactical-training course."

"And this is how you met, correct?"

"Yes. I witnessed the end of the fight, just before the recruits who beat him fled."

"And did William strike them back?"

"No. He didn't fight back. Not a single recruit was touched."

"Objection," the prosecution interrupted. "Heresay. If Miss English only witnessed the last part of the so-called 'fight', how is she to know with certainty that William didn't strike back?"

"Because no one else had any injuries besides Will! I know he didn't touch them!" Cara replied, her voice raising at the prosecution as her eyes narrowed at him.

The judge banged his gavel. "Miss English, I will advise you to allow the defense attorney to respond to any objections going further, understood?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Cara replied, taking a deep breath as her focus shifted to Mulder, who couldn't help but smile as he lowered his head, trying to hide his inappropriate amusement over Cara's boldness.

"The objection is sustained," the judge ordered. "You may continue," he then instructed the defense attorney.

"So you and William graduated together, then moving forward together to serve on the Hoboken Police Force?"

"Yes."

"And you became partners?"

"Not right away," Cara clarified. "It isn't standard practice to put two rookies together. We rode with more senior officers for about six months, then were put on a case together. They kept having us share caseloads after that."

"Was William ever injured in the line of duty?"

"He was shot once during a pursuit of a moving violation," Cara recalled. "But the bullet hit him in his kevlar."

"Kevlar being ...?"

"His bullet-proof vest."

"Describe the incident whereas William was shot."

"We were pursuing a caucasian male driver who violated sections 39: 4-96 and 39: 4-98 … reckless driving and speeding. Will rode shotgun that day, and when the driver stopped after a 3-mile chase, Will tried to make the driver surrender … he tried reasoning with him for a while. Turns out the driver was an EDP and went UTL after firing one round into Will's kevlar in the upper-left quadrant." Cara paused, seeing the slightly perplexed look on the attorney's face. "The driver was classified as an emotionally disturbed person and we were unable to locate him after Will took a shot to his chest, hitting his vest in the vicinity of his heart."

"Thank you for clarifying," the attorney said, pacing away again from Cara. "And upon physical examination of William after the incident, what did the paramedics discover?"

"The medics found no bruising consistent with kevlar impact. It's common that, though the vest stops the round, the impact can often be enough to disable the victim, often knocking the wind out of the person, causing bruising to the affected area and even broken ribs if aimed in the right place."

"But William showed no signs of physical trauma?"

"No."

"And you didn't think that odd at the time?"

"No … I was just grateful he was alive."

"Would you say this … lack of injury, which you noted is uncommon, is consistent with the findings of William's unique physical composition? Knowing what you know now about William's biology, would you attribute his resistance to injury to … perhaps, his chromosomes of unknown origin?"

"Objection!" the prosecution said. "Without a proper medical degree, Miss English is not qualified to speak to the subject."

"Your Honor, I'm merely asking for Miss English's personal opinion," the defense argued. "Being she is the only person who has known William the longest, her testimony to his character should be considered superior."

"We are asking her to speak to his character, not regarding genetic anomalies that a well-respected Forensic Pathologist can't even identify!"

"Sustained," the judge ruled.

The defense attorney turned back to Cara. "Miss English, please describe in full details the events occurring beginning January 24th, 2012."

"Will and I were investigating the scene of a disappearance of Daniel Riggs, a 47-year-old chemistry professor at the Stevens Institute of Technology, at the Hoboken Terminal. Riggs' disappearance from the Terminal followed a murder the week before that was being investigated by another officer."

"Describe your findings."

"There was an unidentifiable acid burn mark on the floor near where the murder victim was found, which is in the vicinity of where Riggs' disappeared. Will was able to discover that the Terminal's security camera limitations fell in the same area, leading us to believe that whoever was behind either one of both of the crimes was on the inside. We were prepared to run a report of all personnel in the Terminal to attempt to make a suspect pool, but Will was disabled shortly after his discovery."

"And how was William disabled?"

"He immediately began to receive massive trauma to his head, caused by a fragment of a metallic artifact with inscriptions, which caused him to experience debilitating pain and unusual brain activity-"

"Objection!" the prosecutor stood. "Heresay. No evidence of this nature has been recovered from the scene."

"Sustained," the judge agreed.

"Please continue," the defense attorney said to Cara.

"After seeing his struggle, he was shot in the shoulder by security guards, who were under the impression that Will was threatening me, which he wasn't. They then took him to University Medical for what I thought was surgery to remove the bullet. Instead, they placed him in a padded cell in a straight jacket, even though he had been shot only hours before."

"And what were the doctors who were looking after him doing?"

"He later told me they had attached a headset monitor on his head, charting his brain activity. They also dripped magnetite into his system in an attempt to weaken him and kill him, since magnetite is the only way to-"

"Objection, speculation," the prosecutor argued.

"Sustained," the judge said.

"His life was being threatened, so he fled when the opportunity arose," Cara continued. "He knew there was malicious intent behind the men who were flown in to observe him."

"Objection, speculation again, Your Honor," the prosecutor interrupted.

"Sustained," the judge agreed. "I will advise the defense to adhere to factual evidence while encouraging witness testimony."

"It IS fact!" Cara argued, gesturing to Will. "This man was almost killed because of what they did to him! THEY are the ones who should be tried!"

The judge banged his gavel several times, eyeing Cara. "Miss English, this is your final warning. I will not pardon you should you continue to disrespect the court with your inability to follow procedure!"

"Yes, Your Honor," Cara said softly, feeling agitated.

"You may continue, but proceed with caution," the judge warned the defense.

Inhaling deeply, the defense attorney looked at Cara. "Miss English, please describe what happened after William's escape."

"He … somehow found me … I was driving to see him at the hospital after going home to shower and change, taking a leave of absence from the department, which meant turning in my badge and gun. I willingly chose to help him escape."

"So William didn't kidnap you?"

"No. It was my choice to help him."

"And where did you go after?"

"We … we went to … Virginia. Alexandria. We met John Doggett and Monica Reyes … they told us about Mulder and Scully, and then we fled."

Will kept a straight face as he listened to Cara, but his heart raced as he watched, growing more afraid for her every second she came closer to being cross-examined.

"You then crossed the country to Oregon?" the defense asked.

"Yes."

"And along the way, did William ever threaten your life?"

Cara's mind flashed quickly to how Will first pressed a knife against her throat in self-defense, then how he nearly strangled her to death before administering the vial to himself. "No."

"Please describe the events just prior to your kidnapping from the motel room."

Cara swallowed. "I was under the impression that it was Will at my motel door that morning, and I answered it. However, it turned out to be the murder suspect of the first Hoboken Terminal case who took me. There was a struggle … I tried to defend myself, but I was unable to. I … I recall being forced to his car by a concealed gun, then … I don't remember anything until I woke up in the room strapped to the table."

"And what was your condition when you woke?"

"I was hazy … I had been drugged somehow. I was only clad in my underwear. I … was bound under self-tightening cargo webbing straps to a metal table."

"What happened when your kidnapper confronted you?"

"He … he wanted me to pose for a picture …. one that was intended to taunt Will. I refused. He beat me." Cara felt Will's intense gaze on her as she spoke. "He knocked me unconscious. Then I woke up in another room tied to a chair, clothed."

"And you have no recollection of the time in between these incidents?"

"No."

"What happened when you were tied to the chair?"

"He … he sent my father into the room."

"Your father, Doctor Timothy English?"

"Yes."

"What was the significance of your father's presence?"

"Unbeknownst to me prior, my father had been recruited by a group of men working in high levels of the government to conduct experimental testing on children, creating them into a race of humans who would be both resistant to Purity and natural able to hide from the Colonists, who have the ability to read human minds and track them."

"Objection!" the prosecution interrupted. "Heresay."

"Sustained," the judge agreed.

"What happened next, Miss English?" the defense continued.

"They …" Cara paused, the images of her father's desperate face as he begged her to protect the Shield inside of her. "They …"

"I know this is difficult, Miss English," the defense said gently. "But your personal account of this tragic time is critical to the court's understanding."

Cara inhaled deeply. "They shot him," she said softly. "They shot him in the head in front of me."

"I'm sorry for your loss," the defense offered.

"Thank you," Cara replied, fighting the tears. She glanced over at Will, who watched her with a pained expression.

"What happened next?"

"I … I then spoke with Will. They wanted me to deliver a message to him. They wanted Will to exchange my life for his father's life."

"And after the phone call?"

"I was … knocked unconscious again. Because I didn't cooperate."

"What do you remember after that?"

"I woke … I was being treated medically in a different room by a doctor who said he worked with my father on the Project. After that, I was taken to a holding room, and then to the room where Will found me … I was strapped to a hospital bed, several tubes were connected to me and I was being emptied of blood into a bag next to me."

"What happened when William found you?"

"I … I don't really remember. I think I stopped breathing. I remember Will resuscitating me, then him taking me out to safety."

"And once you were in safety, what happened?"

Cara silently recalled Will's lips pressing into hers, the screams and shouts that echoed in her mind as she watched him surrender himself, being beaten by several angry officers who thought of him as nothing more than an animal that deserved to be killed. "He gave himself up," she said softly. "He … didn't do anything wrong, but he gave himself up to protect me."

There was a silence that washed over the courtroom, and Cara looked past the defense attorney, catching the eyes of the reporters in the back of the room. "He surrendered to men who beat him for crimes he didn't commit. He willingly subjected himself to cruel punishment as an innocent man, just so I could be free."

Her heart jumped at the sound of the gavel next to her being wielded by the judge. "Miss English, you will refrain from addressing anyone other than the defense or the prosecution!"

"This man is innocent!" Cara continued, standing in her witness stand, overcome with emotion. "He hasn't done anything wrong!"

"ORDER!" the judge demanded. "Miss English, I WILL hold you in contempt of court if you continue! BE SEATED!"

Standing, Cara turned, her eyes falling on Will, who gently nodded his head, trying to reassure her that she should listen, that the truth wasn't worth the implications. She inhaled deeply, her eyes fixed on the shiny dark wood of the witness stand trim in front of her in the box she now sat in.

"No further questions," the defense said, taking his seat reluctantly as the prosecutor stood. Cara watched with curiosity as the co-counsel stood, whispering something in the prosecutor's ear briefly. She moistened her lips as she saw the prosecutor sit, and the co-counsel address the judge.

"Your Honor," the co-counsel said, "as co-counsel, I request the ability to cross-examine the witness."

"Granted," the judge said, unphased by the tactic, though the reporters who Cara had just addressed seemed just as stunned by the change as Mulder and Scully. The co-counsel, for the entire duration of the trial, hadn't cross-examined anyone, choosing Cara as his first and only subject.

Mulder and Scully watched closely as the co-counsel crossed to Cara, whose eyes were locked on the man in front of her. "Good afternoon, Miss English," the co-counsel said, a small smile on his lips. The same chill that ran up her spine when she had first made eye contact with him reappeared, and she felt her concealed hands nervously pinch the fabric of her dress pants. "Miss English … there are a few key details that have been left out of your accounts, but first, let me ask you a question - how does the Hoboken Police feel about your willingness to aid and harbor a fugitive suspected of murder?"

Cara swallowed. This would be tougher than she thought, considering the secret she still kept from Will. "Within a day or two of returning to Hoboken, I ... I turned in my badge and gun voluntarily." She saw Will's startled reaction from the corner of her eye, and instantly felt guilty.

"And according to Chief Veltre of the Hoboken Police Department, your quote 'irrational actions' during the investigation of Daniel Riggs upon your return has warranted you a review under the board to determine your continued eligibility to serve, isn't that correct?"

Will's eyes shot to Cara; he was shocked. Cara had given up the only identity she had, one that she worked so hard for, and now was facing review and legal actions because of her dedication to helping him. Every single thing she had was on the line, and it was all because of him. He felt angry at himself - his best attempts to set her free had caused her to suffer and become more imprisoned because of him. He felt even more guilty when he realized how cruel and cold he had been when he first saw her, now seeing just how much of a hell she had been through.

"Yes," Cara replied, looking away.

"I see. I suppose that the events in January affected you greatly?"

"I just want the truth to be known," Cara replied stiffly.

"Miss English, let's discuss the details that were unexplained in your previous testimony, such as the splintered glass of your car window that was recovered in Oregon. How did the damage occur?"

"It was hit by stones from a construction vehicle prior to the events," Cara lied, her voice even and confident.

"How about the change of your hair color?" the co-counsel asked. "You are a natural blonde, correct? So was it prompted by an attempt by William to mask your identity?"

"No," Cara said firmly. "I chose to dye my hair to detract attention."

"What about the bruise marks on your neck?" the co-counsel asked. "In the hospital, they were measured and compared to William's hands … and were an exact dimensional match."

"Those findings are inconclusive. Anyone's hands can measure the same."

"So are you saying William didn't strangle you?"

"No, he didn't."

Will's jaw tightened, listening to Cara's half-truth with worry.

"Then how did you get those markings?" the co-counsel asked.

"My captor strangled me."

"What about the bruising on your pelvis, Miss English?"

"There were several times I experienced unconsciousness. I can't account for what happened during those periods."

"So your testimony is that William Van De Kamp never threatened or hurt you?"

"Will never hurt me."

"But he did threaten you?"

"He wasn't … it wasn't a threat. He was trying to protect me."

"Are you referring to the incident in the Terminal?"

"He was provoked," Cara said cooly, eyeing the co-counsel.

"Miss English, why was William Van De Kamp's semen found on you during your physical examination after the incidents?"

Cara swallowed. "Will didn't rape me," she said softly.

"So the sexual intercourse was consensual?" the co-counselor asked, turning toward Will and taking a long look at him while he waited for Cara to reply.

"Yes," she answered.

"At any point during these events," the co-counsel continued, eyeing Will, "were you afraid for your life?"

"Not because of Will."

"How about after his detainment?"

"Again, not because of Will."

"Did you fear for the life of your child?"

A startled gasp shook the room, reporters murmuring as they scrambled to capture the question and anticipated Cara's response. Cara stopped breathing, her lips parting as she stared blankly at the co-counsel, who was still eyeing Will. She heard Will shift in his chains in the box he sat, feeling the anger pouring out of him like a wave of invisible energy. "Please answer the question, Miss English," the co-counsel instructed, turning to Cara.

His calm, calculated appearance sent Cara into a panic, wondering how this man would even think to ask such a thing, wondering what trail she left behind, wondering if Brody Wesson had leaked information somehow that she wasn't aware of, wondering what to do as she glanced over at Will, who she saw was fuming with rage. The co-counsel stepped closer to her, the moments ticking away with tense silence as she delayed her response, wondering whether it was too late to lie now or whether she should risk it anyway. "I'll remind you, Miss English, that you're under oath," the co-counsel said, looking into Cara's eyes.

Over his shoulder, Cara caught the intense, questioning gazes of everyone she was with, Mulder and Scully's chilling her the most. Her palms felt clammy as she pinched at the fabric of her pants, remaining in stunned silence. "Answer the question, Miss English," the co-counsel repeated. Looking to the judge, he said after a moment's wait, "Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the question."

"Objection!" the defense attorney finally said, feeling quite baffled himself. "Your Honor, what relevance does this question have? Miss English is not recorded as having any dependants."

The judge's eyes narrowed at Cara, who tried to remain calm. "Overruled," the judge said. "You will answer the question, Miss English."

Cara heard Will's deep breathing across from her, knowing he was nearly going insane as he sat there watching. She tried to even her breathing, but found little success. "Your Honor," the co-counsel said after another moment of silence, "this witness is being hostile!"

"Miss English," the judge said loudly, "you WILL answer the question or you WILL be placed in contempt of court and your testimony WILL be stricken from the record!"

Another painstaking moment passed, silence layering the air that was already thick with tension. "Bailiff," the judge demanded, "place this woman under arrest-"

"No," Cara said softly, her eyes welling with tears. The air remained thick as silence washed over the room. "No, I wasn't afraid."

"Are you saying you do have a child, Miss English?" the co-counsel asked, stepping closer to Cara in the witness stand.

Cara's hesitation elicited anger from the judge. "Answer the question immediately or you WILL be arrested for contempt of court!"

She heard Will's breathing, and almost swore she heard his heartbeat as it raced with fear. "Yes," she whispered.

The scrambling and gasp of the people in the room caused the judge to bang his gavel, demanding order. "Order in the court! ORDER!"

The thick silence that had become Cara's enemy returned to the room; she felt Mulder's eyes searching hers with intensity. "Has this child been born already?" the co-counsel asked.

"...No," Cara whispered, feeling Will's anger seeping faster out of him.

"Are you pregnant, Miss English?" the co-counsel asked, nearing her with a small smile.

Cara blinked, feeling a tear escaping her eye as she stared at the man in front of her. "Yes," she replied softly.

Another wave of panicked note-taking could be heard from the reporters witnessing the sudden turn of events. "And is William the father of this child?"

"Objection!" the defense interrupted. "This has no relevance to the case."

"On the contrary, Your Honor, this is imperative to understanding whether this witness suffers from a delusion similar to Stockholm Syndrome, in which a victim begins to empathize, and even support, their captor through sudden traumatic experiences."

"Overruled," the judge ruled. "Answer the question."

Cara turned, looking into Will's eyes, seeing the crazed expression that was barely kept contained. "Answer the question, Miss English," the judge repeated. "You are under oath and WILL be arrested should you fail to comply!"

Holding Will's gaze, Cara blinked, more tears running down her face. "Yes," she said softly, watching as Will held his breath.

"No further questions," the co-counsel said, gaining Cara's attention. A hum of activity rose in the room and she watched as he turned, walking away toward the desk. She could hear the judge banging his gavel, demanding order in the court as the murmuring rose from the people who witnessed the intense scene; they were aghast at the revelation of Cara secretly carrying a child of a suspected murderer, the now-known secret severing the credibility from her testimony.

On his way back to the desk, the co-counsel took a long look at Will, who was clearly livid at his line of questioning, pulling at his chains as the guards restrained him. With a smile, the co-counsel turned away, and Will's eyes widened in horror as he noticed the distinguishing raised lumps on the back of the co-counsel's neck.

Without concern for anything besides Cara's safety, Will lunged from the witness stand, tearing the chains that held him easily as he yelled, "You fucking bastard!" while bursting through the wooden box that held him with ease, sending splintered wood in all directions. Cara gasped as she watched Will tackle the co-counsel, hearing the startled screams around her from the people who watched and the pounding of the security guards' boots that stomped as they rushed to pry Will off of the co-counsel. The judge banged his gavel violently as he watched in horror at Will's primal rage, who had pinned the co-counsel down.

Will knew he couldn't kill the bounty hunter that had posed as the co-counsel without possibly killing everyone else in the room besides Cara because of its acidic blood, so he continued to press his face into the floor, screaming over his shoulder, "He's one of them!" His message was moreso intended for Mulder and the others, knowing his shot at freedom had been ruined by his desire to protect Cara and their baby.

Cara screamed as Will was ripped away from the bounty hunter, six guards hoisting him up and beating him as he fought violently against them. The bounty hunter posing as the co-counsel stood slowly, wiping his lip as he watched Will in mock disgust. Immediately, Cara tried to go after Will but was stopped by guards who restrained her. "WILL!" she yelled, watching as he was dragged out of the room, two syringes being jammed into his arm as he fought the six men who held him.

"ORDER!" the judge yelled, continuing to bang his gavel. "ORDER!"

Cara continued to fight against the guards as she watched Will in horror. "LET HIM GO!" she yelled, feeling the guards clamp down on her arms even tighter than before.

"Get her out of here!" the judge ordered, and Mulder stood, trying to follow the guards as Cara was dragged away. "Court is in recess for thirty minutes!"

"HEY!" Mulder said, pushing through the crowd that was now forming as he tried to follow the guards who were taking Cara out of the room. "Hey, wait!"

"Step back, sir," a guard said, moving in front of him.

"Where are you taking her?" Mulder demanded.

"She will be placed in a holding cell until she is calm," the guard replied, pushing Mulder back as he tried to move around him. "Step back, sir. Now," the guard warned again.

Mulder felt Scully's hand on his arm as he watched Cara be taken out of the room, feeling the shock pulsing through his veins as they absorbed the scene. "Mulder," Scully whispered, "this baby … they'll try to kill it."

"I guess I got my chance to prepare, didn't I?" Mulder asked, looking down at Scully. "Time to run," he whispered.


	18. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

There weren't many options left, and the only one Mulder knew that was actually possible was one that would carry the most risk. As he and Scully sat calmly outside of the room Cara was in, Mulder rubbed his eyes, trying not to allow himself to ask the question he wanted to so badly and already knew the answer to. "If we knew, they would have been able to know," Scully said, as if she somehow at that moment dug inside of his mind, responding to his question of why Will and Cara had kept them in the dark regarding the child.

"I know," Mulder murmured.

"Mulder … if they keep the child …"

"If?" Mulder asked. "Scully," his voice was incredibly soft, "how could they _not_?"

"There's a lot of risk with keeping a child with such a potential magnitude of power."

"That's _exactly why _they _need _to keep the child."

"William won't willingly risk Cara's life that way."

"The baby might be the only thing to keep us all alive," Mulder argued. "If the baby has his strength and her Shield …"

"Mulder, whether they keep the child or not, Cara is in a lot of danger now that it is exposed."

Mulder looked toward the door to the room they sat across from; he stood, his gut feeling telling him he should intercede. The guards had led her into the room quite a while ago, at least that's what the one said to Mulder when he harassed him, trying to get to Cara because he was afraid for her safety now that her secret was exposed. It had been quiet for a while, though Mulder knew that the rooms were purposefully designed to conceal sound. He knocked on the door, not hearing any response. "Hello? Cara?" he asked. He knocked again, no response. He opened the door slowly, peeking inside to find the room empty. A door on the other side of the room was ajar. "Shit!" he said, turning back to Scully. "It's empty! She's gone!"

Scully jumped to her feet, her eyes widening in shock. "Oh my God, Mulder …"

"I'll cover the rear exits, you take the front."

They quickly divided, Scully rushing toward the large glass front lobby of the courthouse while Mulder charged into the holding room searching frantically for Cara out of the opened rear door, praying she wasn't intercepted by the Colonists somehow. Mulder peered through every door he encountered as he combed the possible rear exits along the back of the building. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard gunshots and a fire alarm blaring through the building.

"WILLIAM!"

Mulder turned quickly, hearing Scully's voice faintly coming from the front of the building. He ran as fast as he could toward where he heard the gunshots, now hearing the barking of the officers who were chasing him, ordering him to stop, to surrender. He couldn't see Will through the thick crowd of security, and he tried to push his way through to get to him, only to be stopped by several officers. "Stay back!" they ordered, though Mulder didn't comply.

Restrained from following Will, Mulder was led back to the front of the building toward the exit, which was now filling with people as they tried to flee the fire they thought had occurred due to the alarms Will set off. His heart sank with worry as he pushed through the people, trying to find Scully through the mass chaos. "Scully!" he said breathlessly as he caught up to her. "Scully ... he ..." he breathed, unsure if what he assumed was right.

"Mulder … William's gone. He … they …. they ran."

Mulder shut his eyes, his hands tightening into a fist beside him. "Son of a bitch," he growled, wanting to punch something in anger. "What the hell was he thinking?!" Mulder snapped.

"I think what they're saying is that he disabled the guards that were with him, then got Cara and used himself to protect her from gunshots as they tried to take him down." Scully paused, closing her eyes. "I saw them drive off in a Government vehicle."

"Outside," they heard the group of officers ordering people, and they joined the crazed procession out of the building, the ringing of the fire alarm weakening as they moved further away. Once outside, Mulder put his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he scanned the streets, watching as several police vehicles with flashing lights barreled down the road, following what he assumed was Will and Cara.

Mulder grumbled, running a hand through his thick brown hair. "Jesus, Scully, what the fuck was he thinking?!"

"Mulder … he probably left us so we wouldn't be at risk," Scully reasoned, knowing it was her son's intention to disassociate with them for their benefit, though losing him again was so painful. "With the bounty hunter so close, I can't see him sitting idly by and-"

"We could have protected her!" Mulder argued. "He's running around in broad daylight with a prison uniform on that's probably covered in blood! He's the definition of a moving target right now! I mean … how far do you think they'll make it?" Mulder demanded.

"You know that the guards couldn't stop William. He was allowing them to have control for show," Scully whispered.

Mulder's breathing grew more rapid as his anger rose inside of him. "They should have let us help them, Scully!" he hoarsely whispered, seeing the police and FBI activity over Scully's shoulder.

"He wouldn't risk us like that," Scully reminded.

"What about our say?" Mulder asked. "Does he just make the decisions for everyone now?"

"Mulder, he did what he thought best to protect her and the baby!" Scully argued quietly, turning as she saw Mulder's eyes on the FBI agents approaching them behind her.

"Mr. Mulder, Doctor Scully … we're going to have to ask you to come with us for questioning," one of the agents said as he stood with three others.

Mulder shut his eyes, his anger and worry colliding in his mind, filling him and overtaking him as he silently prayed Will and Cara were safe.

* * *

Cara's hand gripped the stolen car door's handle tightly, her knuckles white as Will raced through the streets of Denver. She heard the sirens behind them, and her eyes shut, now letting the reality of Will's impromptu decision sink into her mind. They would catch him, and they would kill him and she and their child would die, too.

He had disabled the guards easily, though injected with sedatives, and turned a gun on the others as he plucked her from the adjoining holding room, using his broad frame to shield her as he frantically pushed her out of the courthouse, setting off a fire alarm to slow the pursuing officers down with civilian foot traffic. She attributed their escape out of an unguarded fire exit to the rear of the building with his uncanny ability to locate things, the blood that momentarily leaked from his body as a result of the gunshot wounds he took staining her clothes as he kept her close to him.

Now, as she opened her eyes, gripping the door handle even tighter as Will took a sharp left turn, she fully saw the blood that covered his prison shirt he wore that day to court, knowing that though he wasn't affected by the several rounds that were fired at him, his mind was most likely in severe pain at the thought of not even being able to say goodbye to his parents he had worked so hard to reunite with. She imagined the guilt he must have felt, allowing his mother to experience the loss of her son all over again. Cara, too, began to feel guilt, realizing that if she had just aborted the child like Will had asked, they wouldn't be here right now.

"Cara," Will said, not looking at her. "Can you swim?"

"I …"

"Cara, listen to me," Will interrupted, "the Cherry Creek Reservoir is only another few miles away." Will's eyes remained on the road; he had been driving so wildly for about ten minutes that she figured they had at least covered a mile a minute since their escape. "I have a theory. When Doggett told us about Shannon McMahon back in Virginia, he said she could breathe underwater-"

"No, Will!"

"Damnit, Cara!" Will said angrily. "You've _got _to trust me!"

"I do trust _you_! It's the breathing underwater thing I don't trust!"

"Doggett said she passed air to him … If I can do that, and you know how to swim well enough to keep forward motion, we can make it into the woods surrounding the reservoir."

"They'll just come after us!"

"Not right away if they think the car sank," Will replied. "Cara … we drive off the guardrail … we fake an accident. They'll never think we got out. Their time will be spent dragging the reservoir for at least long enough for us to get deep into the woods."

"Will, there's mountains all over the place! What if they contain magnetite?"

"Then we'll camp in brush, or up in trees."

"Will, I can't swim very well-"

"I'll help you. You know I can."

"Will-"

"Cara, it's the only thing we've got!" Will yelled, overcome with worry.

"You're risking our lives on an 'if', Will!"

"If we don't take this risk, pretty soon we won't have lives to risk."

"Damnit, Will!" Cara's voice was pained in anger, but she knew he was right. "This is all your fucking fault! You and your damn breakfast! Couldn't you've just had sex with me and not worried about being a gentleman?"

"Cara … if I could do that morning over again …"

"I know," she interrupted softly, sighing. "How much longer 'til we get there?"

"Three minutes."

"Will … are you sure about this?"

"The only thing I'm sure about, Cara, is wanting to protect you."

They had no choice; their hand was dealt. Cara's hand found her abdomen and it pressed against the child inside of her that encouraged her to trust him. "Alright," she whispered. "But you'll have to get me out of the car. I won't have the strength once the water fills it."

"I'll get you out," Will replied softly. His hand reached over to hers, gripping it as he drove, the sirens still blaring behind them.

"What if they shoot the tires soon?" Cara asked quietly.

"They can't," Will replied. "I stole a Government vehicle with run-flats."

"Can't they just shoot the run-flats?"

Will paused. "I guess I didn't think about that," he murmured dryly.

"How much further?" Cara asked quickly.

"One and a half minutes."

"Shit."

"We'll make it!"

"We better! You owe me some bacon!"

Their eyes widened as they saw the water finally in sight. "Oh thank God," Cara whispered.

"Cara, whatever you do, don't let go of my hand, alright?" Will's voice was firm, but she still heard the fear behind his words.

"I won't," she replied, gripping his hands even tighter than she had before.

Will let go of the wheel, releasing his seat belt. "Unbuckle yourself!" he ordered, ripping the belt off of him as he gripped her hand. She complied immediately, feeling the release of the strap and making sure it wasn't restricting her in any way. "Cara …" Will turned and took a glance at her. "Look at me."

"Will-"

"Look at _me_, Cara!"

The water was rushing closer to them, she could see the giant body of it clearly through the windshield as the car continued to speed toward it. She couldn't tear her eyes away, knowing what they were about to do. "CARA!" Will yelled. "Look at ME!" With hesitation, she turned her eyes to him, and he looked at her briefly. "Keep your eyes on me!" he ordered, wanting to distract her from watching their suicidal risk unfold. "When I tell you, hold your breath! Keep your eyes on me!"

She did; she focused her eyes on his strong jaw and the profile of his face. "Cara … on three, I want you to hold your breath." Her heart raced as she continued to look at his face, squeezing his hand tightly. "ONE … … TWO … … "

She knew the water would be colder than the air that pierced her lungs as she breathed heavily, her heart racing. She closed her eyes, hearing the groan and snap of the body of the car as it flew over the guardrail at top speed and propelled itself nose-first into the frigid water. The swelling of the water around them drew the car in, the sound of sirens now faint as she heard Will yell, "THREE!"

She closed her mouth, her hand still holding on to Will's and she opened her eyes, the fear for her life overwhelming her with panic as the water fully engulfed her. She saw Will break the driver's side window with his inhuman strength, the water that rushed through the opening now pulling the car even further into its depths. She wanted to gasp at the contact of the cold water, the temperature shocking her system. She listened, though - not only to Will's instructions to not let go of his hand or to look at anything besides him, but to the child inside of her that told her to trust him. She watched Will as his fist continued to remove the glass from his window, the small bits that burst from the frame floating in the murky waters.

Will felt Cara's grip loosening, the vacuum effect the water had against the car now threatening to severe their bond. He grabbed her arm, pulling her through the car across the center gear shift and out of the driver's side window as he swam hard, knowing she couldn't hold her breath much longer. He was determined to remove her from the car before it descended any deeper.

He, too, had been holding his breath out of what he assumed was natural instinct. Now, as he saw the weakness in her face as he moved her away from the vortex the sinking car was creating, he said a prayer and covered her mouth with his, feeling relieved as he was able to pass air into her lungs. He felt her hand grip his more firmly, knowing she was revived by the precious oxygen. He pushed through the dark water, dragging Cara as she swim alongside him as he tried to make it to a shore away from the car. He would pause, pushing air into her lungs as he swam, knowing the cold water was making her weaker as he felt himself exert more energy with each stroke.

Knowing he had to get her to surface, Will pushed them forward with every ounce of strength he had, desperate to get her to safety. It felt like he had swam for miles, though he knew their time spent in the water was much shorter than it would take a normal person to cover the distance. Heading toward shore, he knew the length they covered was enough to get away from the police who most likely still back near the crash site. He silently thanked whoever was responsible for giving him the strength he had, knowing it was the only thing saving all three of their lives at this point.

After more pushes of air and strokes through the water than he could keep track of, he sensed they were close to a coast. He knew he would need to get Cara warm - that her body would go into shock if he didn't get her out soon. With everything he could, he kept swimming, now practically dragging Cara along as they reached the edge of land. He took her in his arms, gripping her small waist and shoving her toward the surface, hoping she could get to the precious oxygen she needed so much sooner with his effort.

She gasped deeply as her head surfaced, letting the air pour into her lungs as she breathed heavily, feeling Will's grip on her as his head surfaced, he too taking much-needed air into his lungs. As she continued to catch her breath, Will focused on dragging Cara closer to the shore, holding onto her when they reached it, trying to assess if they could be seen. He didn't hear anything - no police, no helicopters, no dogs - and he was relieved as his gut told him there were houses on the outskirts of the reserved land. He let Cara catch her breath, seeing how the color had drained from her face and how her full lips were turning bluer by the minute. "Come on," Will said softly. "Let's get you out of here."

She had little strength left to give, knowing Will was practically carrying her weight as they climbed into the steeply-graded shore. She instantly began to shiver as she hit the air fully, her teeth chattering as her body attempted to generate heat. Will was less affected, and he was grateful, knowing he'd have to break into the houses he knew were off of the trails and take what he could to help them survive. First, he had to get Cara to cover.

"Cara," he breathed, his face close to hers, "I'm going to get you to the woods, and then I'm going to get supplies."

"W-w-ill …"

"Shh." He lifted her soaked body into his arms, feeling the human side of him fighting exhaustion as he pressed her to his chest. Still crouched low, Will took in his surroundings, seeing no one near them, and he bolted for the treeline, his soaked shoes spraying water as he ran. He gripped her tightly as he ran, checking for any witnesses that might have spotted him, feeling thankful as he reached the woods. His feet were flying through the woods, looking for a place deep in the woods to set Cara down so he could quickly gather supplies and return to her.

Moments passed as he continued his fevered pace, clinging on to Cara and holding her close in an attempt to help warm her. He saw an area with dried leaves and stopped, laying her carefully down into the center of it, pushing the foliage around her in an attempt to keep her insulated. Will paused, watching Cara's eyes closing as she shivered. "Cara," he whispered. "Cara ... listen to me ..."

"I'm … so … cold …"

"I know," he said gently, stroking her face, feeling under his unnaturally warm fingertips the extent of her body's condition. "Listen to me," he said, tucking more leaves around her, "I'm going to the houses, and then I'm coming back for you."

"Please … don't leave … me …"

"Cara, if I don't get you dry clothes … I won't be long, I promise," Will replied, pushing the dark lock of hair that clung to her wet face away. "Stay here. You'll be safe."

"Will … please … be careful."

"I will," Will said, realizing that, for the first time in ages, he was actually touching Cara's skin - no plexiglass or chains to stop him. He cupped her face as she lay in the leaves, pressing a warm kiss onto her forehead. "Let your body relax," he instructed. "Don't move. Allow the leaves to insulate you." He pressed another kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment. "I'll be back," he whispered, quickly darting away before Cara could respond.

Will's feet carried him swiftly down the underused trail, his mind telling him there was a small neighborhood no more than a half mile away. He ran hard, needing to cover as much distance as he could in as little time as possible. When he spotted the house closest to him from the cover of the trail, he was thankful to see that there was no car in the driveway present. _Get in and get out, _he thought as he swallowed, hating how he had to continue breaking the law just to protect Cara, his child and himself. Closing his eyes briefly as he fought the guilt he felt, Will opened them and ran for the house, pushing his legs to carry him quickly across the open grass. Against the back of the house, Will breathed, listening for any signs of police activity nearby. As he looked out from hiding, he saw that the distance they had covered was remarkable, thanking his lucky stars that they were far away from where he was fairly certain they crashed into.

Turning his attention back to his mission, Will approached the back door with caution, continuing to listen for voices coming from inside it to assess what he would be throwing himself into. He heard nothing, and gently climbed the back porch stairs, his hand finding the doorknob as he focused his energy toward it. He sighed in relief when his power had worked, the door unlocking with a signature _click _sound. Carefully, he opened the door, trying to observe for sound as he stepped through the door opening.

Will was shocked and he froze when the door swung open and he saw that he was faced with a middle-aged man with a large rifle.

* * *

His face bore both the disgust and pleasure he found in the scene, witnessing from a safe distance the milling about of police at the edge of where the crash took place. His eyes traveled to the wooded treeline quite some distance away - about three miles, he figured roughly. For a moment, he considered altering the game to allow himself the pleasure of the catch sooner. He resisted the impulsive desire, though, as he considered the potential implications and the greater satisfaction the catch would have at a later time. More needed to be done, yet. The game was just beginning.

"He's gone," he said as he continued to gaze toward the trees. "He took her, just as we hoped."

"Are you confident in this approach? I still don't see why we don't recover them now."

"I am more than confident," he replied to the voice on the other end of his bluetooth.

"So long as the hunter doesn't become the hunted."

"That isn't a concern. William will never be able to win, no matter what he thinks."

"How can you be so sure?"

He smiled. "Because I control the game."


	19. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Denver Police Department  
Denver, CO  
5:47 P.M. MST

"Mr. Mulder, Doctor Scully, please … come in and have a seat."

Scully led the way into the office, her heart broken as she thought about Will and his desperation to keep Cara and their child safe. She sat quietly, feeling the watching eyes of the federal agents across from her and Mulder. "My name is Harry Klim, I'm the SAC assigned to William's disappearance." The man, broad-framed and Scully figured Mulder's age, sighed deeply, turning to the younger agents next to the desk on the side of the room. "Agents, that will be all," he said firmly, dismissing them and watching as they left, clicking the door shut behind them.

SAC Klim folded his hands, a perplexed look washing over his face. "You know, I had every intention of grilling you both, as many of the younger agents are convinced of your involvement." His eyes narrowed, looking at Mulder. "But … as a father, I know you're not involved because of the pain I can see on your faces." SAC Klim sighed, shaking his head. "Your work back in DC … your reputations trickled all the way out here to the mountains. Before today …" SAC Klim paused, looking at Scully. "Before today, I wasn't willing to believe in any of it. I've been with the bureau for 23 years now, and I can honestly say that I've never witnessed something like I've seen today."

Mulder watched the man in front of him carefully, feeling the trustworthiness in his genuine tone. "Your son …" SAC Klim continued, "... Your son took six rounds without so much as wincing. Four out of the six rounds were in his chest. He was hit. There was blood. I mean … there's no way he should have survived, let alone kept running and tossing 200-plus pound men off of his back like they were toys." SAC Klim laughed softly. "I can't believe I'm saying this … but … he can't be fully human. No one … no one can take two bullet through the back to the heart and survive." He looked carefully at Mulder. "I want to help you find him, but at the same time, I'm … I'm afraid of what might happen to him if he is found. I guess … I guess what I'm asking is, what are we dealing with here?"

Scully glanced over at Mulder; she hadn't been expecting an empathetic ear, especially not one coming from the FBI. "I know … I know the skepticism you must be feeling," SAC Klim continued. "I've been listening to the proceedings. I've heard the testimonies. I … After what I've seen … shit, I can't even begin to explain what I saw. So help me. Help me to help him."

"We don't know where he went," Mulder said cooly.

"Listen," SAC Klim said, leaning forward. "I want to help him for _him, _not for someone else's agenda. I saw the way they looked at each other. That guy … he's innocent. He wouldn't hurt her. God, he's so lovesick about her that I think he'd probably even eat magnets or whatever you said kills him for her."

"Then an investigation can't go through official channels," Mulder challenged, studying the man in front of him as he analyzed his sincerity.

"Then it won't," SAC Klim replied.

"Just like that?" Mulder asked, leaning back, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, I doubt it."

"Look …" SAC Klim sighed. "We've all got someone to answer to, right? But … I mean, my wife would probably kill me for saying this, but … if this guy is really what you say he is … I mean, what else can be out there? If he's the good guy, then what kind of messed-up shit is one of the bad guys capable of?"

"Much more," Mulder replied dryly.

"Then hear what I'm saying," SAC Klim said quickly. "I'm … I'm ready to believe. I know it'll cost me this job and probably my marriage, but … if there's worse things out there that are trying to take over rather than help … I've got to think about my kids, you know? And my wife. I mean … who else could take down something as powerful besides your son? … I'm willing to help you find him under the radar. I'll send the agents out on bad leads. I'll do whatever you need me to. But … I've got to know that when the shit hits the fan, I didn't do it all in vain. Your son, if he makes it … I'll be counting on him to do his job when the time comes."

Scully's eyebrow raised as she slowly looked over at Mulder, who stared intently at the man in front of them. "Alright," Mulder said softly. "Tell your agents he went north. Tell them we have reason to believe he's heading to Oregon ... Columbia River. There's a gorge he'll try to take her to. It's where he was last time. He'll try to return to the site."

SAC Klim nodded, standing and crossing to the door, giving the information to his agents outside of his office exactly how Mulder directed. Scully grabbed his arm, panicked at his willingness to trust. "Mulder, how do we know-"

"If they're in on it, then they'll head in the opposite direction away from the magnetite," Mulder said softly. "Look, Scully … I want to believe him."

"Yes, but at what cost?"

"The people _will _come to believe, Scully … what they've seen in William today … it wouldn't be hard to believe in his ability or in the unexplained after seeing that."

"Still, how will we know if they're actually going up there? And what if they figure out we've given them bad information?" Mulder sighed as Scully argued. "You've always said 'trust no one', Mulder! What makes this any different?"

He didn't have an answer to her question, only a desperate desire to protect his son and a undying willingness to believe.

"Well," SAC Klim said upon his return to his desk, his face laden with the burden of his words, "it appears as if William drove the Government vehicle off the guardrail to the Cherry Creek Reservoir."

Scully's eyes widened in horror at the news as SAC Klim sat, rubbing his eyes. "Oh my God," she whispered in horror.

"What?" Mulder asked in shock, leaning forward.

"The local PD's got a dive team going out there and they're preparing to drag the water," SAC Klim added solemnly.

"He … he wouldn't … he can't …" Scully couldn't even begin to complete a whole sentence as her fear and grief overtook her. She felt Mulder's hand rest on hers, but the shock still registered on her face.

"With water temps like they are," SAC Klim noted, "they wouldn't get far unless they could move pretty fast, which it's fairly difficult to in cold water … if they even got out of the car. The boys are looking about a mile up the water just in case, but I doubt they'll find anything. I'm sorry."

Mulder stood slowly, pulling Scully to stand as he quietly ushered her out of the office. Once they had made it a distance away, Mulder turned her in his arms and stroked her shock-ridden face. "They made it, Scully," he whispered, placing a kiss on her cheek so his words would stay close to her, afraid of who might overhear.

"Mulder-"

"Listen to me," he continued, embracing her as he spoke, keeping the conversation intimate, "William knew about Shannon McMahon. He knew what he was capable of. We've got to start thinking like him and not us. He's able to do much more than we even know, Scully." He kissed her cheek, checking quickly to see who might be watching their conversation, which no one seemed to be. "We've got to look at a map of the reservoir." He paused, holding her tighter. "Besides, why would Klim suddenly surrender his belief in William like that? One minute he's saying he's not human, the next he's thinking he can't break out of the car."

"Then they know he'll head south, or at least away from the magnetite," Scully whispered, sensing Mulder's desire to keep the conversation concealed.

"Mmm-hmm. You were right, Scully … we can't trust anyone."

"Do you think they're looking further up than a mile?"

"I think he might send a few men much further discreetly."

"Mulder …" Scully whispered. "What about Cara? She's not like William."

"Couldn't those Shield cells … couldn't they act reptilian as well?"

"Meaning cold-blooded?"

"Yes."

"It's a long shot … she's still very much human."

"Maybe it's enough, though. Maybe it's all just enough to get them to safety," Mulder whispered.

* * *

Will swallowed, his eyes locked with the burly man in front of him who gripped the rifle with the intention of defense. "Trying to break in, huh?" he asked, aiming the rifle at Will, who lifted his hands to his sides, shaking his head.

"Look, I was just trying to-"

"Just trying to ransack my house, right?" the man growled. "Don't look for an empathetic ear here, boy."

"Please … I don't mean you any harm … I just-"

"You don't mean me any harm? Then why are you breaking in my house?" the man shouted.

"I … I just was looking for some blankets and-"

"Robert!" a woman's voice called from inside the house. Will saw as the man in front of him heard the voice but kept his eyes and gun locked on him. "Robert, what in tarnation are you doing keepin' the door open? It's February!" the woman's voice was thick with a southern drawl, something Will hadn't expected in Colorado. "And what are you aiming at?" Will kept his hands at his sides, backing away from the door as he saw the heavy-set blonde woman approach her husband, drying her hands on a dish towel.

"Get back!" the man barked to the woman. He raised his rifle at Will. "And you stay put or I'll blow your brains out!"

"Robert Earl Harrison!" the woman gasped, now seeing Will breathing deeply as he held his hands up, remaining still even though he knew the bullets wouldn't hurt him. "Why are you aiming at this young man?" she demanded.

"Tess, get back!" the man yelled. "This punk was trying to break into our house. Now, being as this is Colorado, I've got the right to bear arms … and by God, I'm gonna bear 'em!"

Will continued to breathe deeply, his hands still up in surrender as his mind raced to Cara in the woods, cold, alone and in desperate need of heat and dry clothes. "Sir," Will said carefully, channeling his police negotiation skills, "I don't mean you any harm. I … I just simply was going to take some blankets. I'm sorry."

Not listening to her husband, Tess stepped forward, her hands on her hips as she absorbed the sight of Will in front of her - he was soaking wet, his tee shirt stained with deep red blood and dirt, his pants ripped in spots and his shoes saturated with water. Her face bore a look of both confusion at his state as well as something Will hadn't expected - empathy. "Young man," she said slowly, her accent warming her words, "are you hurt?"

"No, ma'am," Will said. "I … I need the blankets for … my wife." _My wife? _Will thought. _I just called Cara my wife._

"Sure you do!" Robert said, clutching his gun even tighter. "And I'm a priest!"

"Oh my Lord," Tess said softly, her eyes still focused on Will as he stood with his hands raised, ready to just make a break for it and cut his losses, gathering Cara and going deeper into the woods. "Robert, this man … he was in the paper today!"

"What for?"

"They said he'd killed a man, but-"

"What'd I tell you?" Robert sneered, cocking his rifle. "Nothing but a lowlife scumbag!"

"No," Tess said firmly, reaching out and touching her husband's arm that steadied the rifle. "This man is innocent."

"Not now, Tess-"

"Robert, this man is innocent! Now put your gun down."

"Tess, I don't have the patience for your kumbayah crap right now!"

"Robert, I said," Tess grabbed his arm, "put the gun down!"

Will watched with intense curiosity, his eyes fixed on the woman in front of him who had, somehow, convinced her husband - a man set on killing him seconds ago - to lower his weapon. Will remained motionless for a moment, his hands still in the air, then began to back away toward the woods. "Wait!" the woman named Tess said sharply. "Your name is William, right?"

Will nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"And the woman you were trying to protect …"

"Cara."

"Caraline, that's right."

"Yeah, well where is she you son of a bitch?" Robert asked, re-aiming his gun at Will, who remained frozen.

"She's … she's in the woods and-"

"You sick bastard!"

"No! She's alive … I'm trying to protect her. She's cold. She's … I'm trying to just get her warm."

"Robert! Put your gun down!" Tess ordered.

"No, Tess!" Robert replied.

"First Peter, chapter three verses fifteen through eighteen," Tess began, her hand on her husband's arm. "Look at him, Robert. Look at the fear in his eyes."

"That's because he doesn't want to go to jail!"

"No, it's a different fear," Tess said, stepping forward as she looked into Will's eyes through the dim lighting. "It's a fear for someone else."

"Tess-"

"Robert, please … He's telling me it's alright."

"Well, He's telling me it ain't!"

"Robert, please."

Reluctantly, Robert lowered the rifle; Will kept his hands up, taking another step backwards toward the woods. "Hold it, young man," Tess said firmly. "You're coming inside."

"Are you out of your mind, Tess?" Robert demanded.

"This young man is soaked to the bone in nothing but a tee shirt in February in the mountains! You're coming inside to dry off."

"Ma'am," Will said slowly, "believe me … I appreciate your offer … but I can't. I need to go to her. I need to get her warm. I don't care about me. I just care about her." Will took another few steps before stopping again at Tess' orders.

"Hold it," she said. "Robert, go get the truck started."

"Woman-"

"Robert, don't be disagreeing with the Good Lord now. Get the truck." Tess stepped forward, folding her arms against herself to ward off the cold winter air. "Now, you're gonna show Robert where she is and bring her back here too."

Robert grumbled, still clutching his gun as he fished his car keys out of his pocket, moving toward the black pickup truck Will now saw that was hidden from his view prior.

Will kept his hands raised. "Ma'am, I-"

"Don't argue with me," she interrupted. Will felt a sense of belief in confidence in her tone he had never experienced before. "How far away is she?"

Will moistened his lips. "About a half-mile."

Tess nodded. "Alright, now don't be scared by Robert. He may look like a grizzly but he's alright. He knows better than to question our Good Lord."

Will blinked a few times, his hands still in the air. He was baffled. He was shocked, confused and even scared. "Ma'am," Will asked slowly, his head spinning at the strange turn of events, "may I ask why you believe me?"

Tess smiled warmly, and Will nearly felt tears fill his eyes, his emotions of the last two days almost bursting at the seams. "Because the Lord told me He wants us to help you," she replied. "He said you're a man that will do many good deeds for everyone, and that your purpose is to protect the people."

"God … talks to you?" Will asked, nearly jumping as he heard the engine of the truck start.

"Young man," Tess replied with a soft laugh, "God doesn't just talk to me. He lives inside of me. Now … go get her and bring her back. I'll draw a warm bath for her." Seeing Will still frozen in place as Robert approached him, gun still in hand, she waved him off. "Go."

"Get in the truck," Robert ordered, less enthusiastic than his wife at the prospect of helping Will.

"I can walk if-"

"Nonsense," Tess said. "Get in the truck … and Robert, don't be cheap, turn the heat up for this young man."

Hating himself for the desperate risk he was taking, Will slowly lowered his arms, following Robert into the truck, feeling the tires grip the dirt road through the woods as they pulled away in search of Cara.

* * *

Cara listened to what he said to do - remain still, let the leaves warm her. She had cried the instant he left, not knowing if the source of her tears was from the exhaustion she felt, the emotions that raged in her mind for so long, or her worries for first her child's safety, and now Will's.

The woods had grown dark, and Cara's heart sank, knowing the passage of time could mean many things for Will's fate. The atmosphere around her was quiet and devoid of human activity, the only sounds keeping her company were the eery calls of owls over her head in the trees and the rustling of the leaves that blew in the winter air. She felt helpless - she had no weapon, no source of light and no sense of where she was. There could be large animals - bears or mountain cats - just waiting to make a meal of her. Her heart raced as she began to panic, not knowing now whether to continue to wait for Will or try to climb into the trees to protect herself.

Her heart nearly stopped as she heard the crunch of gravel and sticks being pressed under car tires, the headlights cutting through the darkness of the woods around her. The vehicle was still a distance away when it stopped, and she heard a door slam twice. _Two people, _she thought, slowly standing from the leaves Will had buried her in, still keeping low to the ground as she felt the earth with her fingertips for something to use as a weapon.

Were they police? FBI? Military? Campers lost? Would they try to kill her? Would they try to assault her? Rape her? Her mind rushed through the possibilities with fevered speed, her heart stopping when she heard them approach on foot, the snapping of twigs and brush nearing her quickly. She gripped a large rock that was near her, now quickly slipping behind a covering of brush as she waited, gripping her makeshift weapon as she listened. The footsteps kept coming closer, and Cara feared their accuracy was because Will had been forced to give up her location.

She stopped breathing when she saw the larger figure, wielding what looked like a rifle step through the woods closest to her while the other figure, still large but seemingly more in shape, moved to where she had been in the leaves. _Will? _she thought, unsure who else would know, and doubtful that Will would give her up so easily. _It can't be. He wouldn't seek help right now._

"Cara?"

Her eyes closed in relief as she sighed, hearing Will's voice gently call her name. She rushed out of the brush, dropping her rock as she headed toward him, gasping when she heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.

"Whoa!" Will said to the man with the gun, "It's her!"

Cara shielded her eyes as the larger man next to Will shone a flashlight in her eyes. "Cara!" Will said with relief, running over to her and holding her in his arms. "You scared the shit out of me," he murmured, pressing his face into her hair.

"I scared you? You scared me, Will!" Cara replied, turning in his arms to look at the burly man with the rifle. "Will …"

"It's okay," Will whispered. "They're going to help us. Come on."

"Will-"

"Trust me," he said softly, still gripping her tightly. He felt how cold her hands were and how wet her clothes were and pressed her closer to him.

"Come on," Robert said, and Will dragged Cara forward toward the truck. The three climbed inside, Will opting to take the middle seat to keep Cara farthest away from the doubtful man who drove them back to his home in silence. Will swallowed, unable to resist reading his mind, realizing just how worried the man was regarding Will's honesty.

"Thank you," Will said softly, hoping it would quell some of the doubts in Robert's mind.

"It ain't me," Robert replied gruffly. "It's the crazy woman I married."

"She's a good person," Will continued. "So are you."

"Hmmph. See how good I am if you try anything, boy."

Cara clung onto Will, shaking from her chilled body and her renewed fear as they pulled up to the house, Robert parking the truck. Will gripped the door handle and opened the door, holding Cara to him as he guided her out. As they approached, Will felt Robert behind him, his gun ever ready for firing a round into him.

The door to the back porch opened, and Will guided Cara up the stairs, trying to keep his arms around her to keep the wind from her soaked body. Tess smiled, ushering them in. "Come on," she said, guiding Will toward the stairs, "let's get her into the bath."

Tess led the way up the small house's stairs; Cara was utterly confused at the unusual warmth of the home, gripping Will tightly in fear as he held her, trying to silently reassure her of their good intentions. "Oh my word," Tess said softly, now seeing the extent of both Will's and Cara's conditions in the light of the bathroom. "Alright, now she needs to get in the tub. Think you can help her undress?" Tess asked Will, who nodded softly. "Good. Now I'll go see what I can get you to change into once you're done." And just like that, Tess was gone, the door to the small quaintly-decorated bathroom shut behind her.

Cara shook her head in disbelief, her body still quivering from the cold. "Will, what the hell are we doing here?" she whispered.

"Cara, they're good people," Will replied softly, stroking her wet hair.

"How … how can …" Cara stopped, realizing that if anyone could determine character, it was Will because of his ability to read minds. "Even if they are, they're putting themselves at risk!"

"It's a divine intervention, Cara," Will whispered.

"What?!"

"This woman ... it's like she has an open line of communication with God, and God spoke to her on our behalf."

"Will ..." Cara shivered. "You don't believe in God."

"After all of this, I'm definitely reconsidering it. Come on," he said gently, lifting the wet shirt she wore over her head as her body continued to shake from the cold. "Shit, you're ice cold," he murmured, trying to ignore her now nearly nude body as he took off her pants.

"Will …"

"Shh," he said, swallowing as his hands felt the skin of her thighs. Without looking at the results, Will slipped behind Cara and released the hook of her bra quickly, closing his eyes as he stripped her of her underwear. "Easy," he said, lifting her carefully and laying her in the tub, letting the warm water slowly flow over her as she gasped. "Just relax," he instructed, letting her body go as she became fully submerged. Silently, he took water into his hands and poured it carefully over Cara's hair, watching as it rolled down onto her bare shoulder. She shivered, though less than before, feeling Will's eyes on her hair but knowing they wanted to be elsewhere. "I'm not gonna lie," he murmured, "it's not the last thing on my mind."

"It's okay," she whispered through shivers. "I'll take it as a compliment."

Will continued to moisten her hair, shifting his focus to a wash cloth that was laid out for her to use. He dipped it in the warm water and gently washed Cara's face, the dirt on his hands running off as he cleaned her. He was relieved when she had stopped shivering, his hand gently washing away the remaining reminders of their escape with the washcloth. He paused, his head hanging as he dropped the washcloth into the tub, inhaling deeply.

"You're exhausted," Cara whispered, reaching her hand out of the tub to touch Will's face. She traced the features of his face as she watched him breathing deeply, knowing he was in just as much need of warmth and rest as she.

"I'm alright," he murmured, letting her continue touching his face. After a moment, he lifted his head and looked into Cara's eyes. "Let's get your hair washed."

"I can do it, Will."

"It's alright-"

"Will," Cara stopped him, grabbing his hand. "What you've done for me … for our child …"

"I'd do it a thousand times over," he replied, indulging himself with the soft feel of her skin under his fingertips. "Cara, I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love someone." He smiled, kissing her wet hand, slipping his hand to her stomach underwater. "And I love this child," he whispered. "I'd give everything for both of you."

Cara smiled, knowing Will felt the kick of the baby inside of her as much as she did. "I love you too, Will," she whispered.

* * *

"I think I found something!"

The taller agent dressed in black made his way over to the stockier one, who was crouched low on the ground of the reservoir woods, his flashlight outlining the impression of a body in a carefully-arranged pile of leaves. "They were here," the agent on the ground said, looking up to the taller one, who now peered through the woods toward the trail Will had traveled earlier leading to the developments.

"Would they risk exposure by going through the neighborhood?"

"Doubtful, especially given their current physical appearances."

"Hmm." The taller agent moved his flashlight carefully around, observing the woods as he tried to determine where the two people he was searching for went. "Let's comb the neighborhood anyway," he said softly. "Perhaps they didn't stay long if they did go. Check with local PD to see if there's been any auto theft reported recently in the area."

"Good idea. They won't get far on foot, that's for sure."

The taller agent smiled. "That's what I'm hoping."


	20. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

After discreetly contacting Doggett, Mulder and Scully returned to the Federal Courthouse via taxi, meeting him and Reyes out front. "The judge managed a JNOV," Doggett said softly with disgust. "They've found William guilty. If he's caught, he'll be killed by lethal injection."

Scully closed her eyes, trying to block out Doggett's words. She knew the lethal injection would contain magnetite, and that, in fact, it would be lethal to her son. "What are the police saying about the reservoir?" she heard Mulder ask as she turned away, her eyes falling on the city around her.

"They can't start dragging until daybreak," Doggett replied. "But from what I've heard, they've got a couple teams out patrolling the coast."

"He'll go deeper," Mulder explained. "He's not in the water."

"You think he can with Cara?" Doggett asked. "How far could he get with her?"

Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. You got a map of the reservoir?"

"In the car."

"Then let's take a look and found out."

* * *

Wrapped in a fluffy blue robe that Tess had laid out for her, Cara slipped out of the bathroom some time later, leaving Will to a much-needed private shower - something he hadn't had in quite a while. She heard Tess' warm humming coming from the bedroom; she felt awkward, not knowing what to wear since the clothes Will had removed from her and put outside of the bathroom disappeared. "Come on in, dear," she heard Tess say, seeing the woman appear in the bedroom doorway. "I've got fresh things for you."

Hesitantly, Cara stepped into the bedroom where she saw Tess bustling about, searching through large black trash bags as she selected clothing. "Now see, the Good Lord told me that charity is always needed. And well, my baby girl Chrissie is in college now, and Heaven knows she loves fashion … she asked me to donate these things some time ago but I just never got to it. I'm figuring they should be about your size." Tess smiled, holding up a pair of jeans and a fluffy gray sweater. "Nice and warm, too. Chrissie just had way too many. Nothin' wrong with 'em." She paused, taking a look at Cara. "Now the unmentionables are a different story. I ain't got but the ones you were wearing. But I washed 'em and they should be dried soon. Oh, and I got some socks here if you ain't mindin' them being pre-owned. They're freshly washed, on my word. What size shoe are you?"

"An … 8."

"Well praise Jesus, Chrissie is too! Here's a nice pair of sneakers … oh, they're an 8 and a half, but that should work for you for now."

"Mrs. … Harrison?"

"Sweetheart, it's Tess. Mrs. Harrison is my mother in law."

"Yes, ma'am," Cara replied softly as she watched Tess laying out the clothes. "Tess … how … how can we ever thank you?"

Tess paused, turning and looking at Cara, her hands on her hips as she took in her face. "My word, you are a pretty young thing," she said softly. "And sweet too. No wonder that boy is smitten for you." Her smile warmed Cara's heart; she felt embarrassed as tears began to fill her eyes. "Oh now darlin', what's wrong?" She sat down on the edge of the bed, patting it for Cara to come sit next to her. Cara couldn't figure out for the life of her why it was so easy to trust this stranger, but she willing sank onto the mattress next to Tess, feeling the warmth of the woman's hand on her arm.

"It's … it's just been a long month," Cara mumbled.

"Well," Tess said, maternally stroking Cara's still-damp hair, "it ain't any of my business how y'all got into what you're into … but just know that faith is everything. Faith keeps you goin'. I sure wouldn't make it far if I didn't have it."

"It's hard to have faith when you've seen so much evil," Cara whispered.

"Evil ain't got no grip on you so long as you don't let it," Tess said gently. Cara looked into the woman's eyes, admiring the sparkle of the deep brown hue. "You and your husband ain't got to be doin' nothin' for us," Tess continued. "The Good Lord gives everybody the chance to help, and well … this is mine and Robert's."

"My … husband?" Cara whispered.

"That brave young man in the shower," Tess said, confused. "You alright, dear? You look … pale."

Cara shook her head, smiling. "I'm okay," she murmured.

"Good." Tess stood, a wide smile on her face. "I'll go get your under-things and be back in a jiffy."

"Thank you."

Cara closed her eyes as the bedroom door shut, feeling exhausted and confused. _Did Will tell them I was his wife? _she asked herself, now peering around the room as she saw what she assumed was Tess' daughter's room, Chrissie's - it looked like it belonged to a sweet, bubbly 18-year-old year, complete with a floral bedspread and a string of white miniature lights tacked to the wall around the small window that was dressed in vibrant purple curtains.

She nearly jumped when the door opened, clutching the robe around her even more tightly. She sighed in relief when she saw it was Will, wrapped in only a towel around his waist. "Cara," he said softly, approaching her, "you okay?"

Cara nodded softly. "Will … these people are risking so much for us."

"I know."

"Will … Did you tell them I was your wife?"

She saw Will's adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "I might have," he mumbled.

"Any particular reason why?" Cara asked, her eyebrow raised.

"It … it just came out."

"Oh. Okay."

Will watched as Cara turned away from him, instantly wanting to kick himself for his lack of tactful response. "I … Cara, I-"

The knock on the door interrupted Will, and they both turned toward it when they heard Tess' voice. "Pardon me, I just wanted to give y'all your personal things."

Will opened the door, unaware of the effect that his lack of attire would have. A flush creeped up on Tess' cheeks at the sight of his bare chest and towel-wrapped lower half. "Oh my Lord," she mumbled, her eyes moving quickly away from Will's fit body to the bed. Cara swore she heard Tess ask for forgiveness to herself as she approached the bed. "Alright," she said softly, "I've got your personal items here, freshly washed and dried. I've also got some clothes here for you, William." Tess' eyes didn't leave the bed. "They were some of Robert's that got too small 'round the waistline, if you understand my meaning. And some socks, too. Now … I'll check the other items from the church I've gathered for donations for shoes for you, William. What size are you?"

"13, ma'am," Will said softly.

"Goodness," Tess mumbled. "Alright, lemme see what I've got." Cara and Will watched as Tess dug through the bags, producing a pair of black boots. "God is good! We've got a pair here. They're a bit rough around the edges but they should get you where you need to go."

"Mrs. Harrison-" Will began.

"Tess, dear."

"Tess … How can we ever thank you and repay you?"

Tess turned, smiling at Will. "Well, I think you'll know when the time comes," she replied. She headed for the door, stopping in the opening. "Oh, I've got some things packed for y'all in those two bags there. Some extra clothes, water, food and the like."

"That's very kind of you," Will said gently. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Tess replied. "Now, both y'all get dressed so y'all can have some soup."

"Ma'am … we can't risk you and your husband any longer. We'll be going once we're dressed."

Tess shook her head. "Nonsense. You need food and at least a few hours of sleep."

"Ma'am, we don't want to risk-"

"Let me tell you something," Tess said softly, her hands now on her hips. "You ain't gonna get far on empty stomachs and empty energy." Tess smiled. "Besides, I'm thinkin' your wife would enjoy some hot food right about now."

Will shook his head. "They'll be looking here soon, ma'am. I won't do that to you and your husband. I've … I've already risked far too much, and I'm not willing to continue risking you both." Will's voice was soft and full of regret as he looked toward Cara.

Tess sighed with a small smile. "Alright then, soup to go." She closed the door behind herself, and Will felt Cara's eyes on him.

"Will, where are we going?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he replied, grabbing his boxers and slipping them on as he turned slightly away from Cara, unsure why he was embarrassed considering their relationship. He was slightly relieved when he saw Cara's attempt to dress discreetly, too. He pulled on the jeans that Tess laid out, thankful for the belt that were laced through them to keep them up, being as they were a little too large. He was grateful for the warmth of the tee shirt and the thermal shirt he pulled over it, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his socks on, lacing his boots as he glanced over at Cara, who was buttoning up her jeans, reaching for the sweater on the bed.

Will stood quickly, taking Cara into his arms and pressing her against himself, feeling the warmth and smoothness of her back with his hands as he kissed her forehead. Without a word, he dipped his head down, trapping her lips with his and indulging himself in a slow, sensual kiss, finally able to fully embrace her and enjoy the moment they shared. When he parted, he reached for her sweater and helped her put it on silently.

Cara knew he was struggling with his emotions, not only for her but with his parents. She, too, had felt the ache that Tess' warmth stirred inside of her, hungry for her own mother to show such love and concern as a perfect stranger had. She knew Will's heart was aching with the sadness of losing his parents, people who had risked so much for him and loved him that he felt he had no choice but to leave them for their own safety.

"Do you think …" Will began softly, smoothing the sweater over Cara's hips. "Do you think they'll understand?"

Cara's hand found Will's cheek, stroking the freshly-shaved skin. "Of course they will," she murmured reassuringly. "Will, I know … I know how much you've lost because of me, and I-"

"Cara," Will interrupted, gripping her hands, "this isn't your fault."

"If I had just listened to you about the baby-"

"Then you wouldn't be the woman I love," Will finished, squeezing her hands. "None of this is your fault. _None _of it."

* * *

Gripping their bags, Will followed Cara down the stairs to the living room near where the front door was, surprised when they saw Robert waving them away from the windows. "Get back," he ordered in a hushed voice, peering out of the window through the blinds with a pair of binoculars. Reading his worried thoughts, Will ushered Cara back, feeling Tess' hands guiding them to the basement.

"Now you listen," Tess said, her voice rushed with worry. "You take the red truck you'll see near the woods along the fence out back and go on out of here." She pressed a set of keys into Will's hand, wrapping his fingers around them as she closed his fist. "You can get out there through the cellar, up through the basement doors. Ain't nobody out back there, just these two cops that are over at the McKinley's right now. You best be hurryin'."

"We can't … take your car!" Will argued softly, trying to give the keys back to Tess.

"That old girl … she was waiting for them veterans to come claim her for their charity. I'd say this is charity enough if I ever knew it. She's a bit rusty and old but she's faster than your feet."

Cara shook her head. "No, we-"

"Don't you be disobeying a commandment from the Good Lord, now," Tess warned softly. "He says you got to respect your elders, so you best get respectin' and leave while you can." Tess gave Cara a thermos that was warm to the touch. "Fresh chicken noodle," she said with a smile. "Farm raised the chickens myself."

Will caught Robert's eyes as he looked toward the burly man. "There's a pistol and some ammo in yours," Robert said, nodding to the bag that was Will's. "It ain't much but it'll nick somebody should you need it."

Will nodded back in appreciation. "Thank you," he said softly. He then turned to Tess, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek. "I won't forget this," he whispered. "I won't forget all you've done for us."

Tess smiled, patting Will's face with her hand. "I know you won't," she replied. "Now, go!"

With speed, Will guided Cara down the dark basement stairs, strapping the bags that had been packed for them across his back as they made their way to the cellar doors to get outside to the red pickup truck that would help them escape the investigating agents, who Will wasn't sure if they were actually human or not. Retrieving the pistol Robert had mentioned and seeing it was already loaded, Will led the way up the stairs to the double flap doors leading outside, carefully opening one as he peered into the darkness of the yard. Not seeing anything, he grabbed Cara's hand, turning to her and giving her a silent, mouthed countdown. _Three … two … one! _

The pair quickly and quietly burst through the opening, Will gripping Cara's hand tightly as he drug her toward the old pickup truck, readying the keys for it in his hands. Cara threw open her door, climbing inside and catching the bags as Will flung them in, jumping inside himself and jamming the key in the ignition, the pistol on his lap. With his eyes closed and a silent prayer, Will turned the key, his heart stopping as the engine failed to start. "Shit!" he cursed, turning the keys again, the truck groaning but not firing. "Shit! Come on!"

As he kept turning it, trying to coax the old truck to start, Cara gasped, seeing two men approach them in the distance. "Will!" she exclaimed, and Will's eyes shot to his rearview mirror, seeing the agents getting closer.

"Come on, damnit!" he cursed, turning the key again. It failed, and he twisted it violently, sighing as it roared to life. Will wildly threw the gear in reverse, slamming on the accelerator as the tires spun to life, sending the vehicle backwards toward the agents who were now close to them, causing them to dive out of the way. Shifting into drive, Will slammed down on the gas, the tires screeching as he tore across the wide yard.

Cara looked over her shoulder, seeing the two agents stand as Will drove, their guns aimed at the truck's tires. "Will!" she gasped, feeling Will urging the truck to move faster. She closed her eyes in relief as she saw the two agents drop back, moving away from them.

Her relief was soon turned to anxiety as the truck stalled, Will cursing as the engine died. "Shit! Come on!" Will jammed the keys forward, willing the truck to roar back to life as he checked for the agents. "Do you see them?" he asked Cara, who peered out of her window, now seeing the profile of Tess' and Robert's house from a distance.

"They're … they're at their door."

"What?" Will asked, as he jammed the key again and again, praying he wasn't flooding the engine and killing the car all together.

They both jumped when they heard two rounds fired, and Cara gasped, seeing the taller of the two agents holding the gun that shot the bullets. "Oh my God," she whispered in horror.

Will froze, looking toward the house, knowing the men who were after them just shot Robert and Tess for what they had done. "NO! Fuck!" he yelled, his voice cracking as his hands slammed onto the wheel. He felt sick, and eyes filled with tears of grief and guilt.

"Will, they're coming toward us!" he heard Cara whisper, and his heart raced as he tried to start the truck, feeling the tears escape his eyes for the lives that had been lost on his account. When the truck roared to life, Will slammed on the gas, driving madly away as his tears continued to fall, catching the sight of the two agents watching them leave in the rearview mirror.

There was a thick silence in the air between them that was silently broken to Cara through the distinct voice of the child inside of her. Her lips parted, unsure if Will would listen.

"Will … we need to go to New Mexico."

Will's eyes remained on the road. "Why?"

"It's … it's what the baby is saying."

After a few moments, Will wordlessly turned onto Route 285 South, trying to swallow the grief and anger that was threatening to consume him with darkness.

* * *

10:17 P.M. MST

Mulder, Scully, Doggett and Reyes covered as much ground as they could in the woods surrounding the reservoir, but there were no traces of Will or Cara, and no real way to cover every possible inch of the woods without an entire team. Reluctantly, Mulder called off the search, knowing his son wouldn't stay in one place for too long, but rather head toward an area of safety, keeping continuous movement to avoid detection. Since the judge had issued a judgment notwithstanding verdict against Will, there was no reason for any of the group to remain in Denver, so they made the trek back to Florence to their motel, knowing the probability of Will and Cara even being anywhere near Denver was little at this point, about six hours after their escape.

At the motel, Mulder quietly sank down onto the bed he shared with Scully, sighing as he watched Scully out of the corner of his eye. She was frozen on the edge of the mattress, her eyes fixed on the door of the motel room and her eyebrow arched as her pained expression gave away the terror she felt inside and the grief of losing her son all over again. "Mulder …" she finally whispered, sniffing as a tear rolled down her cheek, "... he's gone. I … I lost him twice, now."

Mulder shut his eyes and hung his head, wishing he could take the pain away from Scully. Yet he, too, was in grief over losing Will, fearing he would never see him again. "We'll find him," Mulder said softly, his voice firm. "I won't stop until I do."

His heart broke as Scully's sobs filled the air, his arms reaching around her and drawing her into him, feeling the ache of her soul as she cried against his chest. "Why, Mulder?" she asked through her tears. "Why?"

He didn't have an answer; he wished so badly he did. He stroked her hair, feeling her body shake as the grief overtook her, her tears soaking into the fabric of his tee shirt. He tried to speak, but words failed him as he listened to the painful cry of the woman in his arms. He didn't know why, he wanted to say, but couldn't find the will to speak.

"Scully …" Mulder's voice was soft when he spoke a few long moments later, the sound of it enough to partially soothe her, her sobs quieting a bit. His heart raced with the sudden revelation that filled his mind. "Scully, I think I know where they're going."

Scully pulled away. "How, Mulder?" she asked, wiping the tears away.

"Scully … they're going to Cara's safe place," he whispered. "That's why Albert Hosteen was there."

"Mulder … she spoke of a meadow with white wildflowers … it could be anywhere-"

"It's in Two Grey Hills, New Mexico," Mulder interrupted. "I remember the meadow. It was … so out of place, in the desert. It's near where Hosteen lived."

"Where the boxcar was?"

"Yes!" Mulder breathed hard, his mind spinning. "That's why Albert Hosteen was there in her safe haven! The tribe will shelter them!"

"Mulder … how do they even know how to get there?"

Mulder took Scully's shoulders into his hands, looking into her eyes. "White buffalo, Scully. The baby is the white buffalo." He squeezed her upper arms gently. "What Albert Hosteen was saying to her was 'she is the keeper of the white buffalo' … the baby, Scully. The baby is leading them." He saw her ready to object, and pressed a finger to her lips. "Scully, don't discount the possibility. After all, you've spoken several times to your son in much the same way."

Scully sighed, looking down away from Mulder's eyes. "Except now, he's not responding."


	21. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

10:49 P.M. MST

"Come in."

SAC Klim eyed the pair of agents who walked into his office and sank in the chairs in front of him. The taller of the two agents eyed SAC Klim carefully, seeing him bent over paperwork. "They're in a red pickup, no thanks to some charitable reservoir residents."

SAC Klim looked up at the agent. "They got away?" he asked, dropping his pen in disgust.

"We weren't expecting help," the stockier agent offered.

"Damnit, I told you I wanted them taken _cleanly_," SAC Klim growled.

"We've got them tracked as heading south toward New Mexico," the taller agent said. "What are your orders?"

"I want them intercepted immediately," SAC Klim replied. "What of the residents?"

"We cleaned up the remaining evidence."

"Get a location on Mulder and Scully. Track them, and take them out when the opportunity presents itself. If William hasn't contacted them by now, he will soon." SAC Klim's eyes narrowed at the agents in front of him. "Don't screw this up," he warned darkly. "And remember … Save the bullets containing magnetite for William. I want him killed, but I need the woman alive."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Near Pagosa Springs, CO  
1:28 A.M. MST

Will blinked heavily through the darkness of the wooded stretch of highway he drove, the old red truck rattling a little under his stressful request of performing at its peak speed of 75-miles-per-hour. He glanced quickly over at Cara, who was sleeping sounding in the passenger's seat under a warm blanket Will found in the back of the truck. Quietly, he reached for the thermos of soup in the cup holder, taking a sip as he refocused on the road, his eyes tired and his body weary. He was grateful Cara had managed to get about four hours of sleep, but without her to challenge his mind, he felt himself slowly drifting into a haze of highway hypnosis, nearing full sleep as his eyes began to close.

The sound of a horn coming from the opposite direction startled him awake, causing him to cut the wheel in a quick swerve to the right away from the on-coming traffic he had nearly drove them into. Cara bolted up from her sleep, scared from the noise and sudden movement, looking over at Will. His eyes were red as he rubbed them, and she saw his attempt to refocus on the road ahead. "Will," she whispered, seeing the time on the dashboard clock, "let me drive."

"I'm fine," Will mumbled.

"Will, you probably nearly fell asleep. You need to rest-"

"I said I'm fine, Cara," Will snapped, gripping the wheel even tighter.

Cara watched him in silence for a moment, seeing the pain in his face and knowing the flurry of emotions running through him that had darkened his spirit. "What happened back there … it wasn't your fault."

"They _shot _them, Cara!" Will yelled. "They shot two innocent people because of _me!_"

"No, Will," Cara interrupted sternly. "They shot them because they are evil. _Not _because of you." She inhaled softly, seeing Will absorb her truthful words. "Please let me drive. You're no good to anyone if you're exhausted."

Sighing in defeat, Will slowed the truck down, pulling over on the empty shoulder in the darkness of the night, only their truck's headlights illuminating the thickly-wooded mountain landscape around them. He threw the car in park, and Cara climbed out, shivering against the wind as they switched seats, Will now slamming his door a little harder than necessary as he buckled his seatbelt. Cara clicked hers around her body, glancing over at Will, whose eyes were fixed out into the darkness next to him. Silently, she draped the blanket over him, stroking his warm arm as he remained motionless, his eyes shutting upon the contact of her hand. "You'll need to pick up 160-West in about twenty miles," he said softly. "Then it's only about sixty-some miles to Two Grey Hills."

"Okay," Cara murmured, readying to pull the truck back out onto the road but feeling Will's hand suddenly clamp down on her arm.

"You wake me for _anything_, alright?" he asked, searching her eyes carefully. Seeing her nod, he slumped against the chair, allowing his exhaustion to take control of him as Cara pulled the truck out onto the highway.

* * *

Cara winced as she looked at the nearly empty gas tank, knowing they would need fuel soon. Much to their surprise, they had found three twenty-dollar bills earlier in the bags that had been packed for them by Robert and Tess, Cara now grateful for it as she passed a sign for an upcoming gas station along the highway, relieved when she saw it was open 24-hours.

Knowing Will had just fallen asleep only twenty minutes ago, Cara pulled the truck into the station, quietly turning off the vehicle and exiting as she opened the gas cap, locking the pump into the truck as she fed the machine two of the three twenties, hoping the forty-dollars-worth of gas would be enough to get them to Two Grey Hills. As she watched the gallons climb on the pump, Cara froze when she felt a presence behind her. Realizing the pistol was still with Will, Cara gripped the pump, readying herself to strike whoever was behind her with the device. Stopping the gas flow and capping the truck even though they didn't get their money's worth, Cara whirled around, swinging the pump at a stocky man, who ducked quickly out of the way. "Whoa," the man exclaimed, shielding himself from Cara. "Easy there, pretty girl."

"Stay back," she warned, still clutching the pump as she tried to back herself toward Will's window.

"Just thought I'd lend a hand," the man said, boldly approaching her. Realizing he was intent on pursuing her, her grip tightened on the pump, inching her way backwards toward Will. "Where you going, sweetheart?" the man asked with a smile that disgusted Cara.

"Nowhere with you."

Cara looked behind her, seeing Will aiming the pistol at the man in front of her, his eyes narrowing as he cocked the gun. "Back off," he warned, shoving Cara behind him.

"Hey," the man said, raising his hands, "just trying to be friendly."

"I said, back off," Will repeated darkly. "Right now, I really don't have a problem shooting you, believe me."

"Alright man, take it easy," the man said, stepping away with his hands still in the air. When he was what he felt a safe distance away, the man stopped, smiling at Cara, who now opened the driver's side door. "See you later, sweetheart," he said, laughing in Will's direction as Will waited until Cara got inside the truck and started it, keeping his gun trained on the man.

When they finally pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway, Will slammed his fist onto the dashboard. "Damnit, Cara! I said wake me up!"

"Will, you've only slept twenty minutes and-"

"That son of a bitch back there could have hurt you!"

"I can take care of myself!" Cara shot back.

"Do what I tell you!" Will growled.

"I'm not your slave, Will!" Cara yelled back, her anger matching his.

"Don't be so fucking stubborn, Cara!"

"How am I being stubborn, Will? Was driving off of a fucking bridge MY choice?"

"I did that FOR YOU! To save your fucking life! Sorry if it was too much of an inconvenience for you!"

"Why don't you just admit it, Will?" Cara screamed. "Just admit your resentment for me, alright?" Will was silent as Cara lashed out. "Just say it, damnit! Just say that you're angry at me for having to be your choice over them! Just SAY it, Will"

"FINE!" Will yelled, turning to her. "I'm fucking angry, alright?! Is that what you want? You want to see me pissed the fuck off? Well, here you go!" He slammed his fist into the car door, seething in anger. "I'm angry over the innocent people who have died in the last month, Cara. I'm angry over you losing your father and your mother not caring enough about you. I'm angry at complete strangers sacrificing their lives for me. I'm angry that I may never get to see my parents again and that I put them through losing me for a second time. I'm angry that I keep putting you and our child at risk. I'm angry at myself for who I am. But the LAST damn thing in the world I am angry at is YOU."

Cara's eyes were fixed on the road, hearing Will slam his fist into the door again, this time knowing, without even looking, that he caused damage to it. She listened quietly as she heard him curse under his breath, knowing he was exhausted and absolutely broken inside.

"I don't resent you," Will said softly after a long moment of silence. "It was my choice to protect you and I'd chose it again. The question really is … do you resent me?" He turned to her, taking in the profile of her face as her eyes remained locked on the road. "Do you … resent me … that I didn't use protection?" He met her eyes as she turned to look at him quickly. "I … don't resent … having a family with you at all. But I need to know if you do."

The truth was, she didn't - she relished the fact that she was carrying Will's child, though it still struck her as a shock that she would become a mother in the near future. However, she couldn't imagine anyone she would rather share a child with than Will. He was her rock and her soul. "Of course not," she said softly, not looking at him. "Will … I've never regretted our child for an instant."

She felt his hand slid onto her thigh. "I resent the fact that I didn't do things the right way," he murmured, "and the fact that I can't ever give you what I would want to give you."

"Will …" She fought the tears that formed in her eyes. "Will, you've literally given me everything you have. You've given me your life. There's nothing more I need." She glanced at him, seeing his eyes were heavy as he studied her. "And don't you dare ever resent who you are," she said firmly. "You're my Superman, remember?"

Will allowed a small smile to wash over his face as he stroked Cara's thigh. "I'm not good like him," he murmured.

"Yes, you are," Cara said softly. "You're a good person, Will. Please … have faith in that."

Silence hung in the air as Cara continued to drive, the truck's headlights cutting through the dark night as they wove south through the woods and mountains to New Mexico. She was relieved when she felt Will's hand relax on her thigh, hearing the steady flow of air through his nostrils as he slept, slumped toward her. Finally alone, she let her tears fall as she absorbed the evils that had clouded Will's mind, choosing to bear the burden of them so he could sleep as they consumed her mind.

* * *

4:31 A.M. MST

After Mulder and Scully discussed their decision privately, they had pulled Doggett, Reyes, Skinner and even Gibson into a conference, explaining their need to separate from the group to protect them, and that they would continued to be needed as resources. Doggett and Reyes argued to accompany them to New Mexico, but Mulder was firm - he and Scully would travel alone. Mulder's express orders to Skinner were to relocate Gibson and go back underground, fearful for the special young man and what the Colonists might try to do to him to lure them out from hiding. Scully convinced both Doggett and Reyes to remain connected to the FBI, knowing their resources would come in handy at some point in the future. With wishes of luck and hugs exchanged, Mulder and Scully climbed into the rental vehicle Skinner had secured when he arrived with Scully and Gibson and headed south toward Two Grey Hills, taking with them Cara's belongings from her abandoned motel room.

Mulder had chosen to drive first, knowing Scully was more than exhausted as she quickly fell asleep, happy that she was able to rest. He, on the other hand, had no desire to sleep - he was motivated to drive hard and fast toward the reservation he had once stayed on. He prayed his instinct about Will and Cara's destination was correct, and that they would be able to find the safe haven that Cara had predicted in her hypnosis session.

The trip would take somewhere around eight hours, and now having driven about four, Mulder felt his back ache from the cramped position his leg was in, the car feeling too small for his lanky frame. His eyes immediately darted up to the rearview mirror when he saw a pair of headlights appear behind him - they hadn't been there moments ago. He continued to divide his focus between the road ahead and the car behind, a feeling of paranoia overtaking him as he saw the car come closer, the lights cutting through and bouncing off of the mirror into Mulder's eyes. "Damn," he mumbled, trying to see the car that was now tailing him, knowing it wasn't merely an impatient driver behind the wheel of the vehicle behind them.

Scully stirred when she felt Mulder hit the gas hard, waking fully with worry when she saw Mulder's face. "Mulder, what's wrong?" she asked, sitting up.

"I think we're being followed, Scully," he murmured.

Turning to look, Scully shielded her eyes as the bright headlights directly behind them blinded her momentarily. "Who would be following us?" she asked, looking back at Mulder.

"I don't know," Mulder mumbled, trying to will the meager four-cylinders to push the car faster.

A bullet broke the glass of the back of the car, and Mulder yelled, "Shit!", reaching with his right hand to press Scully down out of the line of fire as he crouched. "Scully, you alright?"

"Yeah," she said, keeping her head down as she felt Mulder swerve, his depth perception affected by his crouched driving position. Mulder heard her loading a clip into her gun. "If they shoot again, I'm going to return fire," she said.

"Try to get the tires," Mulder said, looking in his rearview mirror as he felt their car being pushed by the one behind them. "Shit!" He tried to retain control of the vehicle, feeling the much larger one behind him now steering them toward the ditch alongside of the otherwise empty highway.

Scully took advantage of an opportunity she saw when the driver was preoccupied with pushing their car, leaning out of her window and aiming for the car's tires behind her, missing with the first attempt and ducking as she received shots fired at her in return. She saw Mulder trying to fight against the large car and re-aimed, successfully blowing a tire on the vehicle behind them, which freed their car, allowing Mulder to tear away, the tires squealing as they drove off and left the other car behind.

Breathing heavily in her seat, Scully looked over at Mulder; he was alright, only crazed but not hit. "Who the hell is after _us_, Mulder?" she asked, still clutching her gun.

"Probably that asshole Klim," Mulder growled. "Damnit! He's probably working for them."

"Wouldn't their involvement be obvious if they took us out?" Scully asked.

"Scully, if it goes all the way up to the FBI, they'll be able to cover their tracks," Mulder reminded. "The FBI doesn't give a shit about us, and judging by that display of affection back there, I'd say there's more of a chance they'd like to see us as roadkill." He glanced over at Scully, who met his eyes. "Absolutely no one can be trusted," he added. "At this point, I don't even know if we'll have Doggett and Reyes to rely on."

"I spent six rounds, Mulder," Scully noted. "We've only got seven left in this magazine and then yours."

"Well, let's just hope we don't have any more run-ins for a while."

"You really think the FBI is working for the new Syndicate?"

"I think that they think they are, only in reality, they're being used just as much as William and Cara are."

"Probably being promised safety."

"Except they don't know how fucked up it all really is." Mulder paused. "How many people could you see in the SUV behind us?"

"Only one, the driver."

"There's probably more to deal with soon," Mulder grumbled.

"Mulder … what if the tribe won't shelter them or us?"

"I know they will."

"How can you be sure? I mean … Albert Hosteen has been dead for a long time and-"

"The baby, Scully," Mulder interrupted. "The baby."

Scully paused, swallowing. "Mulder …" Her voice was soft; he sensed the hesitation in her. "Mulder, I'm a doctor. And … and when I examined Cara, she had bruising and tearing consistent with rape." She felt Mulder's eyes shoot over at her. "I'm not saying William … did that. I'm … I'm just trying to be sure … Mulder …" She struggled with allowing her worry to come to light. "Mulder, what if Cara isn't carrying William's baby?" Scully studied Mulder's eyes as he glanced over at her, then back at the road. "There were periods of unconsciousness that Cara experienced that she can't account for. What if … What if this baby … isn't human?"

Mulder swallowed, allowing Scully's words to sink into his mind. He hadn't considered the possibility - none of them had. "Gibson said it was his," he replied softly, not truly believing his own words now that Scully's doubts entered his mind.

"How can we be sure?" Scully asked. "How do we know … that William isn't protecting something evil rather than good? And what if the FBI is trying to obtain it as a barter for the Colonists?"

Mulder blinked slowly, feeling the panic rising in him. Could Cara's unborn child be something designed to kill? What if their demise was closer than they all thought?


	22. Chapter 21

_Author's Notes: The lyrics to the song "Tell Me A Story" and the song itself belong to Phillip Phillips._

* * *

CHAPTER 21

4:06 A.M.

They had arrived some time ago in New Mexico - Cara had followed route 491 into the vastness of the desert that was still only illuminated by the moon. Perplexed as to what to do, and seeing it was only just after four in the morning, she pulled over, turning the engine of the car off to conserve gas, hoping the desert air was warm enough to go without the heat as she watched Will sleep. He must have been exhausted she figured, seeing how deep his current state of sleep was and his lack of response as the vehicle stopped. She took in the details of his face through the bright white light of the moon shining above them, her eyes falling past his face to take in her surroundings.

She had always dreamed of seeing more than just New Jersey as a teenager, determined on running away from what she could only assume was life after taking on the Shield, her new memories she was given haunting her, encouraging her to escape. In the last month, she had driven through more of the country than she assumed most people ever would, though the sights she saw didn't rank in importance as much as the final destination. Now, as she took in the silhouetted desert scene around her, she was awed by the mysterious beauty it possessed, the openness of the landscape so much different than the city of Hoboken she had sworn to serve and protect so many years ago.

She nearly jumped when she heard the faint yet distinct sound of a group of coyotes howling in the distance, feeling much too out of place as she sat quietly, unsure of whether to wake Will or not. Their dog-like yap combined with the eery shrill of their howl make the air on her arms stand on end, goosebumps covering them quickly. "Will?" she whispered, seeing him still slumped over, hearing a gentle half-snore coming from his relaxed body. "Will?" She touched his arm, and he shot up, grabbing her hand quickly as his eyes flew open. "Whoa, easy!" she whispered.

"Shit," he mumbled, lowering her hand to her lap as he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry." He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the darkness around him. "Why are we stopped? What's wrong?"

"We're here," Cara replied softly. "I mean … this is the furthest I know where to go."

Will sighed as he peered out through the windshield, taking in the vastness of the desert. He saw a small road marked by a weathered wooden pole a ways up on their right. "There," he said. "Go there."

"Will …" Cara shook her head. "This is Najavo Nation, Shiprock Territory. It's all restricted access."

Will frowned as his eyes narrowed toward the road. "We've got to try, Cara," he said, faking some confidence as the doubts swirled in his mind.

Silently, Cara started the truck's engine, slowly creeping back onto the road and taking the right-hand turn that Will instructed. He watched carefully as she drove, the dirt road rocking the truck's suspension as they pushed further away from the main highway, the desert seemingly swallowing them in its darkness as the truck's headlights tried to cut through the cold. Will saw Cara was keeping the truck steady at 25-miles-per-hour, knowing she didn't want to chance going faster for fear of the truck hitting the rock underneath too fast, causing her to lose control.

After about ten minutes of driving down a road that seemed to have no end, Cara gasped and slammed on the brakes when she and Will heard a large _thud _in the bed of the truck, as if something had jumped inside. With only the moon to illuminate their surroundings, Will quickly threw open his door and aimed the pistol at the back of the truck, not sure if he was readying to shoot an animal trying to eat them or a person trying to rob them. Peering into the bed of the truck, Will was surprised to find it empty. His heart stopped when he heard Cara's surprised tone screaming his name, and he rushed around her side to find her being held tightly by a shadowy figure. "Let her go," Will demanded, cocking the gun. "Now!"

The figure didn't move, still gripping Cara's arm tightly. "You're trespassing," the deep voice said firmly, twisting Cara's arm backward, causing her to wince.

"Hey!" Will yelled, stepping forward, "Let her go and we'll leave! Don't make me hurt you!"

"You can't hurt me," the figure, who Will assumed to be a man, said. In the moonlight, Will caught the glint of the knife being pressed against Cara's throat.

"Look …" Will lowered his gun slightly. "We don't have much, but you can take it. Just let her go. She's done nothing to you."

"I don't want your money, white man."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to stop being so arrogant and get off of our land."

"Alright … and we will. Just let her go and we'll leave."

"Yiska!"

Will's eyes shot up toward the darkness where the second voice came from, hearing the swiftly near-silent approach of another person. "Yiska! What is the meaning of this?" the second man asked.

"They're sneaking around in the dark like thieves," the man name Yiska replied, holding the knife to Cara's throat.

"Look, we are just trying to find a family," Will said softly, dropping his gun to the ground. "That's all we're here for."

"Who is it that you seek?" the second voice asked; Will couldn't make out any distinguishing features in the darkness.

"A man named Albert Hosteen," Will said gently. "We know … we know he died some time ago, but-"

"What would you want with Hosteen?" the second voice asked, curious.

"He knew my father," Will replied, keeping his hands at his sides, "Fox Mulder."

A silence washed over the tense situation. Will heard the second man mumble something to Yiska, and was relieved when he felt Cara being shoved into his arms. He quickly pressed her behind him, away from the two men, as he watched. "Fox Mulder is your father?" the second man said, taking a step toward Will.

"Yes," Will replied. "My name is William … Mulder. William Mulder."

Will stood still as the large man stepped directly in front of him, now seeing his rugged face in the light of the moon. He searched the man's eyes carefully as he felt his own being searched. "You enter my mind easily like there is an open door," the man said quietly, feeling Will read his thoughts. "Such a gift was bestowed on the son of Fox." He studied Will's face. "And you look like him. Like a Young Fox. Yet …" He paused. "I see your mother's doubt in your eyes."

The man turned to Yiska. "This man is who he says he is. He is the one we've waited for." He turned back to Will. "My name is Shilah. I am Albert Hosteen's grandson. This impetuous young man is Yiska. He desires status for his bravery but is only rewarded with the shame of haste." Shilah turned to look at Cara, and Will saw his eyes widen, a look of embarrassment washing over his face. "You are _Shima_ … Asdzáá nádleehé_._" Shilah's head dropped, and Yiska's followed. "Please forgive us. We are ashamed of our blindness and beg your empathy."

Moving away from Will slowly, Cara approached the two men in front of them whose heads remained bowed in shame, something that confused her. "Wait, what did you call me?" she asked softly, Will confused by her curiosity.

"You are Asdzáá nádleehé, the Changing Woman," Shilah repeated softly, his head still down.

"No, before that," Cara asked, stepping even closer, much to Will's dislike.

"Shima," Shilah said.

"Yes. I've heard that before. What does that mean?"

Shilah looked up at Cara; she saw him swallow before he spoke. "Who has spoken to you?" he asked.

"I … I think it was Albert Hosteen," Cara murmured, surprising Will.

"His spirit visited you?" Shilah asked, his eyes widening.

"I'm not sure," Cara replied. "I … was in a coma … and I remember an elder painting my body."

Shilah's head dropped. "You are Shima …" He paused, sensing Cara's confusion and looked up at her. "Do you not know who you are?" he asked.

Will's eyebrow arched as he listened. "What does Changing Woman mean?" he asked.

Shilah's eyes traveled to Will. "Come, Young Fox. Shima. We will shelter you." Shilah's eyes fell on the old truck. "Yiska, you return alone. I will guide Young Fox and Shima."

Yiska nodded, then seemed to disappear into the night. "I know this place," Shilah said softly, his large brown palm extended toward Cara. "I will drive."

Glancing at Will, who nodded softly in approved, Cara placed the keys in Shilah's warm hand; he gripped her hand gently upon contact, and Cara felt an odd sensation overcome her, the baby inside of her kicking in response. "Please," Shilah said gently, "it is our wish to keep you safe."

Will slid into the middle seat, gripping Cara's hand as he helped her into the truck. He felt Shilah take his place in the driver's seat, who twisted the keys and caused the engine to roar to life, guiding the truck through the dark desert as Will squeezed Cara's hand beside him.

* * *

They seemed to have driven nearly an hour, Cara's head resting on Will's shoulder as he held her around her waist, rubbing small circles into her hip with his thumb absentmindedly. Shilah was quiet the entire trip, which Will assumed was due to him trying to be respectful of Cara. He couldn't understand Shilah's and Yiska's reaction to her before, seeming to regard her with an almost god-like reverence that was accompanied by both awe and humility, as if their initial failure to recognize her as what they believed she was had shamed them to their very cores. Will knew it went beyond a simple respect for a woman, knowing the culture of the Navajo people placed such in high regard - this, rather, was something different, a feared acknowledgment of Cara for what she represented.

Will was slightly amused at Shilah's insistence of calling him Young Fox, and sighed as he remembered how he introduced himself as William Mulder. _Mulder. _No longer did he consider himself to be William Van De Kamp from Wyoming, but rather William Mulder, son of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, born in Democrat Hot Springs, Georgia. He thought it would feel odd to take on a new identity at 25, but surprisingly enough, his new name felt more natural than his old one ever did. He glanced over at Cara, who had dozed off, her breathing gentle and even as he continued to stroke her hip with his thumb. Perhaps he would be able to give her a new identity as a Mulder soon as well, he thought with hope.

"We're here," Shilah said, cutting through the silence. As he slowed the truck to the small settlement that was still encased in darkness, Will kissed Cara's head gently, feeling her stir under him.

"We're here," he whispered as she sat up, focusing on what she saw out of the windshield. Her eyes fell on Shilah as he slipped out of the truck, then looked at Will.

"Can we trust them, Will?" she whispered, knowing he would be able to tell.

"More than anyone right now," Will replied gently. "Cara … they believe you hold incredible power and value. These people are willing to die for you."

"But … why?"

Will shook his head, opening the door for Cara as he leaned across her. "I don't understand what I'm hearing in his mind," he explained. "It's a mixture of emotion and native Navajo, I'm assuming. I can only read the intentions. And they are good."

Shutting the truck door as he exited last, Will wrapped his arm around Cara, trying to keep her warm from the cold winter desert wind that whipped around them in the openness. They hadn't received coats from Tess and Robert, which didn't matter, since what they did receive was far beyond what Will would have expected from strangers - he was simply grateful for the warm, clean clothes he was wearing. "Young Fox," Shilah said as they walked, handing Will the truck keys, "we have saved the far cabin for you. We know of your weakness to the dark rock. Much of our land is surrounded by deposits of magnetite for our protection from those who wish to invade. You may feel a weakening if you are not diligent about nourishing yourself daily with the herbs provided."

"Thank you," Will said softly, his eyes falling on the small cabin that was separated from the cluster of others closer to the mountain. He felt a sting in his body as they walked near the houses, his joints filling with a familiar ache caused from the magnetite.

"The herbs will absorb the iron that seeks to destroy you," Shilah continued.

"Yeah, I think I'll be needing some," Will winced, gaining Cara's attention.

"You okay?" she whispered.

Will nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Shima," Shilah said softly, "you will find all of what you need for the months to come in the cabin. The women who live here will assist you at the time of your labor. Until you must care for your young, you are welcome to join our family and our everyday lives, as are you, Young Fox."

"Wait," Cara froze, Will coming to stop beside her. "How … how did you know … I am …"

"Come," Shilah replied, gesturing to the only lit cabin in the group. "The elders have been in prayer for you since you were visited by my grandfather's spirit. They are eager to meet you and Young Fox. Much will be explained."

Cara started walking again, feeling Will's strong, warm arm around her, his body heat blocking some of the cold air that surrounded them. "I shall see to it that you are provided with proper clothing," Shilah said. "The desert changes her mind frequently for how she feels."

Climbing onto the porch stairs of the lit cabin, Shilah looked to Will. "Young Fox, how is your strength?" he asked in concern.

"I've felt better," Will mumbled, his entire body aching.

"Come. I will fix you some tea."

Shilah opened the door, ushering Will to follow him. He stopped suddenly as Cara began to follow as well. "Forgive us, Shima," he said softly. "We wish to host your presence in only the finest of our rooms. Please," Shilah gestured to a large brown chair that was adorned in brightly-colored blankets, "please stay here so you might enjoy our best."

Cara's eyebrow arched to Will, who gave her a soft nod, letting her know Shilah's intentions were genuine. Shilah smiled, his head dropping in humility as Cara sat in the chair. "We are grateful for you choosing us," he said, turning to Will. "This way, Young Fox."

Cara watched as Will disappeared behind a blanket that divided the cabin's rooms, then looked down at the blankets resting on the arm of the chair she sat on. The detail of the needlework impressed her and the vibrancy of the colors made her smile, a sense of whimsy captured onto an item designed to warm and protect. She felt the soft fabric with her fingers, wondering why Shilah was insistent on treating her the way he did, as if she was royalty. She knew their culture respected women, but there was something odd about the connection Shilah and Yiska had made with her - something far more complicated that simple manners.

Hearing Will's deep voice in the other room as he carried a conversation with Shilah, Cara stood, examining the warm living-room she was instructed to stay in. She admired the hand-painted artwork that adorned the walls and shelves of the home, smiling as she traced the outline of a small, white buffalo figurine sitting on the mantle above the fireplace that cracked and hissed with warmth under it. Under her feet, the skin of what looked to be a wolf was displayed beautifully, its silver and brown fur shining in the glow of the fire. She felt a gentle kick inside of her as she continued to trace the buffalo, smiling as she thought of her, Will and their child enjoying a fire much like the one she stood in front of, Will playing with their child as she watched.

Feeling a presence near her, she turned, seeing a small child peeking out from behind a wall, hiding in a hallway leading to other rooms. Cara smiled to the child, stepping closer. "Hello," she said softly. The child stepped a little further away, hesitant at Cara's approach. "I didn't mean to scare you," she said gently. "I was just admiring this white buffalo." She took the buffalo off of the mantle, showing it to the child. "Is this yours?" she asked. The child shook its head; Cara couldn't see if it was a boy or a girl. "Oh," Cara said, "well … who does it belong to?"

"You," the child said softly.

"Me?" Cara asked, confused. "Oh, I don't think I should just take something-"

"My grandfather carved it for you," the child said, stepping out from behind the shadowed hallway. Cara squatted down to the little boy's level, now seeing his gentle masculine features in the light of the fire.

"But … how did he know I would come?" Cara asked, confused.

"Because you are the Changing Woman," the boy replied.

"Yes, but what does that mean?"

"It means … you are one of our gods."

Cara's eyebrow raised. "Wait, what?" she asked.

"River," Shilah's voice behind her said firmly, causing Cara to stand and turn toward it. "Return to your room immediately."

The boy ducked quickly out of the room down the darkened hall, Cara watching with regret. "He wasn't bothering me," Cara said softly. "It was my fault, I asked him about this." Cara held up the white buffalo, placing it back on the mantle. "I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to be sorry," Shilah said quickly. "It is my son who should be ashamed."

Cara shook her head. "He did nothing wrong!" she said, surprised at Shilah's reaction toward the boy named River.

"It is not a child's privilege to converse with you, Shima," Shilah explained gently. Before she could object, Shilah added, "Please, come. The elders are eager for your presence."

Shilah led the way, and Will stepped to Cara's side when he saw her hesitance. "Will," she whispered, "these people think I'm a god."

Will nodded. "I know," he replied in an equally soft tone.

"But why?"

Will held up the curtain to another room that Shilah disappeared behind for Cara. "I think we're about to find out."

* * *

5:24 A.M. MST

The man dressed in head-to-toe black opened his dark SUV's door, slamming it behind him as he examined the ruts made in the desert earth, smiling as his eyes followed the tire tracks southwest. Pulling out his cell, he dialed a number quickly, holding the phone to his ear as he kept his flashlight trained on the tracks he discovered. "I've found them," he said to the person on the other end. "They headed west on Service Road 19. Get Barnes and Jameson down here. … What of Mulder and Scully?" The man sighed, shaking his head. "I knew I couldn't leave you to do this alone. FIND THEM. … Wait." The man paused, looking toward the road the tire tracks followed. "Let's organize a family reunion instead," he said with a smile. "You, Barnes and Jameson get down here now. Mulder and Scully know where William is headed, so now let's wait for them to arrive. Then we can draw William out using them as bait. And once they're all dead, we can secure the woman and the child."

* * *

5:24 A.M. MST

Will and Cara were silently greeted by the observing eyes of five elders who sat on the floor in a half-circle as they entered the darkened room cautiously. The one in the middle, seeming to be the eldest, looked past Will, his eyes immediately going to Cara. "Young Fox," the elder spoke, his voice sure, "you have done much good in protecting Shima. The gods take great pride in you."

Will nodded in humble appreciation, unsure of how to respond. His delay seemed to go unnoticed, though, as the elder bowed at the waist, now addressing Cara. "Shima, we are honored you have chosen to dwell among us in Shiprock," he said. "Please, sit and rest."

Though she wanted to ask a million questions, Cara sat silently, Will taking a seat beside her. "I am John. My brother Albert's spirit visited you, Shima," the elder continued. "He said though once you were in grave danger, you are now blessed richly in your womb." John's eyes looked to Will. "And you, Young Fox, the son of Mulder … you are Jóhonaa'éí. You are the Sun, and your power causes Asdzáá nádleehé to bear your children. You must understand how important it is to protect Asdzáá nádleehé as she carries them." John paused, looking at Will. "Young Fox, you understand things not spoken with great clarity. It is your gift to use for the protection of Shima. The children in her womb are sacred and must be kept safe."

"Wait," Cara said, interrupting John, "you said _children … _as in plural?"

Not addressing her question directly, John nodded to the man sitting beside him on his right, who passed down through the group three cords of string. "These strings are for you, Young Fox. They are a symbol of the three lives you have been entrusted with. When woven together, they are stronger than when they are alone." When the string reached his hand, Will examined the long silky cords - one green, one blue and one red. "The green string represents Shima, the goddess Asdzáá nádleehé in her abundant fertility. The blue string represents To bájísh chíní, the child Shima will bear who is the Child of Water. The red string represents Naayéé' neizghání, the child Shima will bear who is the Monster Slayer. These children, conceived through your power and born of Asdzáá nádleehé's womb, will clear the earth of the monsters who will roam it."

"John," Cara said softly, "are you saying that … I'm … pregnant with … twins?"

"Yes, Shima," John replied. "This is your destiny. You will bear the children who will cleanse the world of impurities. Changing Woman never dies, she merely seeks a place to inhabit, her body young in the spring and old in the winter. She, who is you, is revered. She provides regeneration for the people and gives all women the ability to birth new life. We are in the season of spring once again, and it is your young body that has been chosen to shelter her spirit."

Cara was stunned - she now knew why Shilah and Yiska had been so ashamed of the way she and Will had initially been greeted. "John," she spoke softly, "I … I don't want to sound rude, but I think you're mistaken." Will saw the eyes of the elders now on Cara as she continued gently. "I … we … appreciate your hospitality, but I … I'm not who you think I am. I'm … I'm just a girl from New Jersey. A cop. I'm … I'm not a goddess."

John nodded. "Shima," he said patiently, "just as Young Fox was once blind to his true purpose, so have you been to yours. This blindness was for your protection, to lead you here to this moment when the truth would be revealed." His smile was soft, barely lifting the corners of his wrinkled mouth. "It is your humility that has kept you pure, and now it is your bravery which will keep you strong." John eyed Cara. "Your father, Timothy … he knew of your destiny. He knew of the great potential you held, and tried to protect you with science. He altered your physical self, but nothing can alter your true purpose." John's eyes fell on Will. "Young Fox, too, was blind to his destiny. But the gods of fate sought to unite you after hearing the prayers of the people. It is their faith that once held the cords of your bond. Now, Young Fox, it is yours alone to carry."

As if it was a natural instinct, Will quietly began weaving the three long cords together in a braid, his eyes fixed on the colorful string as his mind ran through what each represented. His heart raced, touching the blue and red cords, thinking of how Cara might not just be carrying one of his children, but two. "John," Will said softly, "how will the children cleanse the earth?"

"Your doubt is great, Young Fox," John said, sighing gently. "It is your mother's doubt passed down to you. Though the will of your father to believe is growing strong in you."

"I want to believe," Will said gently, looking up from his work. "It's just … I've been asked to believe a lot in the last month." He spotted a knife that laid near him and reached for it, severing the long cords into two shorter ones, finishing the first braid and beginning to braid the second group of cords.

"Do not let the doubt cloud your mind," John advised. "Keep your mind open. The protection of Shima and your children depends on it. Remember that things are not always as they seem."

Cara's eyes widened at the reference John used, hearing it now for the third time by three different people. "What isn't as it seems?" she asked.

"They will come in the veil of good," John explained. "The evils will be hidden in plain sight, preying on the good nature of the people."

"How so?" Will asked.

The sudden entrance of Shilah into the room interrupted the conversation. "Forgive me," he said softly, "but the men sent to search for Fox and Dana said there were others waiting for them as well."

Will and Cara were both shocked. "Wait, my parents are coming here?" Will asked.

"Yes," Shilah replied. "They are close now."

"Who did your men see?" Will asked boldly, standing.

"Men with guns," Shilah said. "They seem to be from the FBI."

"Take me there," Will demanded, stepping toward Shilah. "I need to protect them."

"Young Fox," John said firmly, "you hold the cord to three lives who need far greater protection."

"It's okay," Cara said, shaking her head. "I'm going with him."

"No, you're not," Will replied as Cara stood. "You're staying here."

"Like hell!" Cara shot back. "Will, I'm not letting you go alone."

"I can't risk you out there," Will said softly, leaning into Cara, who saw the finished braid of cords grasped firmly in his hand.

"Will-"

"Young Fox," John said, standing, "your choice in this moment will set the course for the future. Your power is great, but must be used carefully."

Cara saw the pain on Will's face, hating that John was implying he had to, yet again, make a choice between her and his parents. "Go," Cara whispered, taking Will's hand. "I will stay here. I will be fine." She felt the long cord in his hand, the tight braid Will had woven the string into smooth and firm. She stroked his face, kissing him gently. "Go."

Gently touching Cara's face, Will turned to John. "Thank you for everything you've done for us. I wouldn't be my father's son if I didn't at least try to help them." Will nodded to John, who nodded gently back, and then took Cara by the hand, leading her out of the room and onto the dark porch outside, grabbing a blanket on his way out with her.

* * *

There was so much on his mind as he stepped toward the expanse of land leading to the cabin that had been designated as theirs, the ache of seeing his parents challenged by the rush of fear that now claimed his heart, swallowing as he wordless wrapped the blanket around Cara, sheltering her from the still-cool early morning air.

_Tell you a story and it starts with time  
__Moves to how you live, and learn how to die  
__Another phase in this world that brings death to life  
__So don't believe in everything you see  
__Because what you want might not be what you need  
__Hold your breath, jump with me and we'll survive  
__Cause you are the song that leads me to the light_

"Cara," he whispered as they walked, "these people are hell-bent on killing my parents and probably me."

"And that's suppose to make me feel better … how?" Cara asked, her eyebrow raised.

Will smiled. "Alright, so that wasn't the best lead-in." He laughed gently, reaching under the blanket for Cara's hand; she felt the braided cord still woven through his fingers. "Cara … I want you to know that I _will _be coming back for you."

_Hope is just a ray of what everyone should see  
__Alone is the street where you found me  
__Scared of what's behind you  
__And scared of what's in front  
__Live with what you have now  
__And make the best of what's to come_

"I know you will," she repeated, not entirely confident in her words.

"I'm not just saying that," Will continued. "I'm … I'm making you a promise. And … shit." Will's head dropped as he lost his nerve.

"Still not very reassuring," Cara teased gently.

_Tell me a story long and true  
__We aren't what we say  
__We are what we do  
__Just pieces of a puzzle to find where we stand just confused  
__So you are the moon that pulls me through the night_

"Damn, this is hard," Will mumbled, still gripping her hand as they made it to the front steps, Will pulling Cara to sit. He re-tucked the blanket around her shoulders silently, feeling Cara's eyes on him, begging him to explain his odd behavior.

_Hope is just a ray of what everyone should see  
__Alone is the street where you found me  
__Scared of what's behind you  
__And scared of what's in front  
__Live with what you have now  
__And make the best of what's to come  
__Live with what you have  
__And make the best of what's to come_

"Alright … what I'm trying to say in my usual useless and tactless way is, I promise to come back to you … if …" He released her hands, separating the two braids he had made, though Cara had only seen one before. Will gently took Cara's left hand into his, stroking her fingers. "... If you want me to."

"What are you saying, Will?" Cara whispered, stunned at how he singled out her ring finger on her left hand.

Will swallowed, holding up the shorter of the two braids he made for Cara to see. "I'm … Will …"

"Yes, you are," Cara said, trying to mask her nerves and impatience.

"No, I … I mean … Will you marry me?"

_Hope is just a ray of what everyone should see  
__Alone is the street where you found me  
__Scared of what's behind you  
__And scared of what's in front  
__Live with what you have now  
__And make the best of what's to come_

"What did you say?" Cara whispered, shocked.

"I just asked you to marry me," Will murmured, sinking to his knee as he continued to hold onto Cara's hand. "Sorry, I forgot to get down first, then ask," he mumbled.

"Will … You … People are trying to kill you … And you decide to propose to me?" Cara asked softly, astonished.

"Is it as awkward as you just made it sound?" Will asked, wincing at the possibility.

"Yes."

"Shit, I wanted it to come out different but-"

"No, you idiot." Cara grabbed Will's face with both of her hands, holding it gently as she lifted him up to look at her. "I mean, yes. I will marry you."

How he grabbed her into his arms was nearly violent, his relief colliding with his joy into an explosion of emotion as he embraced her, kissing her deeply as his heart leapt with happiness. Parting reluctantly, he wrapped the small braid he made around Cara's left ring finger, tying it to secure it, the silky cords representing the ring he had been so eager to put on her finger for what seemed like ages, now finally a reality. He saw her tears she shed as she watched, feeling her hand grip his tightly after he finished. Lacing the larger of the braids around his left wrist, he tied it securely, claiming his bond to the three lives he valued the most in the world. He eagerly kissed her again, now feeling the small knot of the corded ring he fastened to her hand as she stroked his cheek, her lips soft under his as they united.

_So you are the sun that leads me,  
__You are the moon that pulls me,  
__You are the light that leads me,  
__You are the moon that pulls me_

It was Cara who parted the second time, still stroking Will's face as he pressed his forehead against hers. "You should go," she whispered, hating the idea of him leaving.

She felt his head move in a nod against hers. "I'll be back to carry you over this threshold," he murmured, kissing her nose. "So don't go inside yet."

"Okay," she agreed, finding his lips for one final, soft kiss before they stood, him leading her back to the cabin they came from as he held her tightly next to him.

Shilah met them on the porch of the cabin, nodding toward Will. "Let's go," Will said, squeezing Cara's hand before he slipped away into the dark night by Shilah's side, leaving her to watch in worry as she twisted the braided cord around her finger.


	23. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

New York City, NY  
5:39 A.M. EST

"Everything has fallen into place," the bounty hunter said, crossing toward the others who were gathered in the darkened suite. "William is in Shiprock, as we expected. The Shield is with him, and Mulder and Scully are en route."

"What of the two agents, Doggett and Reyes?" the toothpick man asked.

"They have returned to Washington," the bounty hunter replied.

"How is this in our favor?" the mustache man demanded.

"Even if they are able to access any information, nothing can stop our design," the bounty hunter assured.

"What of Gibson Praise?" the dark-skinned man asked.

"He is underground with Skinner," the younger man replied.

"Do we need him?" the dark-skinned man questioned.

"We may, for bait," the bounty hunter answered.

"When do we begin the project?" the toothpick man questioned.

"We will launch the system in approximately nine months," the bounty hunter explained.

"When the child is finished gestating?" the mustache man asked.

"Yes. It will divide William's attention," the bounty hunter said.

"I don't agree," the toothpick man said. "We need something more."

"Which we will have," the bounty hunter reassured. "Mulder will come to know what we want him to, which we will use against him to gain an advantage over William."

"How can you be sure William will choose Mulder over the Shield?" the mustache man asked.

The bounty hunter smiled. "Because he is right now," he replied.

* * *

Shiprock Territory, NM  
6:15 A.M. MST

Cara had sat on the porch of the cabin for quite some time, letting the warmth of the woven blanket Will had draped around her shoulders surround her as she stared into the vast darkness he had disappeared into. Her fingers hadn't left the braided cord he tied around her finger, rotating it gently around and around again as she sat quietly in thought, her worries consuming her as the words John spoke in warning to Will echoed in her mind: "_Young Fox, your choice in this moment will set the course for the future. Your power is great, but must be used carefully."_

As her hands rested on her lap, she creeped her fingers toward her stomach, closing her eyes as she thought of how she now knew she carried two children instead of one. A feeling of inferiority filled her, terrified of the thought of raising two children at once when she barely felt capable of raising one. Cara hadn't had a stellar childhood to use as an example for how to raise the two children growing inside of her now, and as she looked out into the darkness, she wondered if she would even have Will's help after he made his choice.

"Shima," she heard John say behind her. "It is not safe for you to be alone in the dark."

"I'm fine," Cara said softly. The only thing she felt confident in was her ability to take care of herself. Afterall, she always had in her life anyway.

"It is not your physical body that concerns me," John explained, "but rather the ache I feel of your soul." He saw her slight reaction to his words and continued. "Come. Come inside and keep warm. I will tell you more about who you are so you may know of your great strength."

With a deep sigh, Cara stood, holding the blanket around her shoulders as she slowly followed John inside, taking one last glance over her shoulder to where she knew the sun would soon be rising, disappointed all over again when she didn't see him there, returning to her.

* * *

Near Shiprock, NM  
7:05 A.M. MST

"Mulder? Mulder … wake up."

Hearing Scully's gentle voice, Mulder lifted his head, blinking heavily as he woke, peering through the windshield. Glancing over at Scully and seeing her worried expression, he perked up as he straightened in his seat. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Mulder … I feel like William just tried to speak to me."

"What did he say?"

"He's here, Mulder … but we're not alone. He's trying to warn us to-"

Scully jumped as a tire to their car blew, the still-rising sun not yet illuminating the sharp object on the road she ran over. "Damn!" she cursed, slowing the car down and pulling over, putting it in park.

"Scully …" Mulder grabbed his gun. "If William said we weren't alone, then that wasn't an accident."

Arming herself quickly, Scully peered through the openness of the desert surrounding them. "Mulder, I don't see how anyone can hide in such an open environment."

"Call me paranoid, but I'm pretty sure we're mice being lured to cheese."

Still not seeing anyone as she looked all around them, the rising sun helping to shed light onto the desert landscape, Scully replied, "Mulder, I don't see-"

She gasped as she felt the car lurch forward, a large SUV appearing out of nowhere, ramming their disabled car from behind as it pressed them forward with speed onto the rough terrain of the desert. "Scully!" Mulder yelled, tearing off his seatbelt, "We've got to jump!"

Removing her seatbelt as the SUV continued to grind against the car, Scully looked at Mulder. "On three!" she said. "One … two … three!" They each flung their car doors open, propelling themselves out of the car as hard as they could to gain distance away from the SUV that continued to shove their car forward, stopping suddenly when the driver realized they had escaped. Mulder and Scully tucked and rolled, each being assaulted by the hard ground as they tumbled violently through the sand. Mulder stood, feeling cuts on his arms and legs from the sharp rocks he encountered upon landing. Seeing Scully stand, he quickly drew his gun, firing rounds into the area of the driver's side of the SUV, seeing Scully disable the tires to even the playing field. Mulder rushed around the other side of the vehicle when he heard Scully being assaulted, rushing up to the stocky man dressed black as he ripped him off of her, slamming the butt of his gun into his head, knocking him unconscious. Mulder quickly grabbed Scully's hand, drawing her to stand as he analyzed the welt on her head. "You okay?" he asked, reaching her head injury to touch it carefully.

Scully winced. "Yeah, I'll be okay," she said softly. She turned, scanning the SUV, now watching as Mulder threw open the doors, finding the vehicle empty.

"Is this the same guy you saw before?" Mulder asked, gesturing to the unconscious man.

Scully nodded. "What are we going to do with him, Mulder?"

"I'd like to shoot him, but I don't really want to waste the round if there's gonna be more people joining the party."

"I'll see if there's anything we can tie him up with in his vehicle."

Mulder nodded, watching as Scully boarded the SUV, rummaging around for something to restrain the unconscious man. "Mulder, I found some rope, but I also found his gun-" She froze as she went to exit the vehicle, finding Mulder lying on the ground, she hoped merely unconscious. Her eyes widened when she saw a taller man dressed in black above him, a gun aimed to his head. "Put the weapons down, Doctor Scully," the man ordered, "or I'll finish him."

Swallowing, Scully slowly bent, lowering her hand with the weapons in it, resting them on the floor of the vehicle. "Good," she heard the man say. "Now, stand." Making a hasty and risky decision, Scully began to slowly stand, midway quickly changing her tactic and swinging herself from the open SUV door, kicking the taller man in the head as she landed, knocking him to the ground. She tumbled, rolling onto her stomach as she tried to grab the gun that fell out of the man's hand, only to have her hand crushed by the formerly unconscious man dressed in all black that appeared over her, his large boot crushing her wrist as she groaned in pain. The man who stepped on her wrist kicked her in the stomach, knocking her away from the unconscious body of Mulder, and she coughed, feeling the wind knocked out of herself as she tried to stand.

She froze, still trying to gasp for air that had been kicked from her stomach and lungs, seeing a gun trained on her by the stockier man in black. "Up," he ordered. "Slowly." Scully slowly stood, feeling her ribs ache from the kick she received to them by the man's steel-toe boot.

Scully gasped in surprise as she watched the expert drive of a large knife pierce the stocky man's side in his chest in between the layers of kevlar that she assumed he was wearing, as if whoever threw it knew where the weakest points were to be aimed at. The man fell, and she grabbed the gun that tumbled to the ground, aiming it at the first man who now stood. "Don't move," she warned, not being able to see who threw the knife without taking her much needed focus off of the man she aimed at in front of her. Her eyes widened, though, when she saw the man lifted into the air by an invisible force, being smashed against the SUV with anger. Scully's eyes fell beyond the car and saw Will closely approaching with two other men. "William!" she exclaimed, feeling joy that she was seeing her son again, but fear for him as he now willingly approached danger.

"Mom! Are you okay?" Will asked quickly.

"I'm okay," she replied.

"Check Dad!" Will ordered, now grabbing the man who he had pinned up against the SUV with his invisible force. Scully obeyed, turning to kneel to Mulder, who was just trying to stand.

"Mulder!" Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," he mumbled, turning and seeing Will, who had the agent by the throat, lifting him in the air. "William! Don't kill him!" he yelled, rushing to his angry son who continued to grip the man's neck. "We need to question him!" Mulder said firmly, grabbing Will's shoulder.

"I won't … tell you … a damn … thing," the taller agent said darkly in between gasps of air as Will tightened his grip on his throat. Scully looked quickly away when she saw Will's rage climax as he snapped the agent's neck easily, closing her eyes as she tried to block out what she witnessed.

"We needed to know what he did," Mulder growled, angry at his son.

Will tossed the man to the ground, breathing heavily as he looked at Mulder. "SHIT! I already do. There's two more, headed for Cara!"

"Where?" Scully asked.

"At the cabins!"

Will tore off running toward the vehicle he, Shilah and the other man came in, Mulder and Scully following behind after quickly retrieving their bags from their disabled car. Throwing their gear in the trunk and climbing inside the car, the five adults pressed closely together in the seats and slammed the doors, Will breathing heavily in anger Shilah drove them wildly back toward the cabins.

* * *

John, having seen that Cara was still consumed with her worry for Will, encouraged Cara to enjoy some hot breakfast. After much insistence that the people treat her as a normal person, Cara sat at the kitchen table, her eyes focused into the beautiful grain of the wood surface of it as she slowly ate the corn cakes prepared for her.

She knew she was taking longer to eat than normal, forcing the food into her stomach as both her fear and hormones fought it, tempting to make her sick. With a small smile to encourage both her and himself, John began his story, his deep voice melodic and soothing as Cara listened.

"First Man raised and taught Changing Woman, having found her mysteriously at the summit of a mountain after she was born from nothingness. She grew from infancy to puberty in four days, thus acquiring the name Changing Woman. This occasioned the first puberty ceremony. The Holy People were called for and Talking God officiated at the ceremony. Changing Woman was dressed in jewels, white shell, turquoise, abalone and jet, blessed with pollen from the dawn and from twilight, symbolizing her control over them. After this blessing, her hair was bathed with dews and she was instructed to run toward the dawn as far as she could see and then to return. As she ran, her dress of jewels jingled. She repeated this for four nights. On these days, when not involved in ceremonies, she occupied herself with planning for the future of the earth. The songs that were sung for Changing Woman as she ran are sung today for young women at their puberty ceremonies.

"At Changing Woman's next menstruation, another puberty ceremony was held, similar to the first. But at this ceremony, other procedures for the future were defined. These decree that no menstruating woman shall be present at any ceremonial. The order of songs at future Blessingway ceremonies was thus determined.

"After this ceremony Changing Woman would go outside and walk on the trail which had been prepared for her. One day at noon, a strange man walked up to her and spoke to her. He said, 'Prepare yourself for something that is going to happen, after a while I will visit you.' This stranger was so dazzling that Changing Woman had to look away. When she turned back, he was gone. She returned home and reported this encounter to First Woman and First Man. It seems that First Man was expecting this occurrence, which happened twice again. On the third time Changing Woman was told to fix her bed outside, with her head to the east. When she fell asleep a young man came and lay beside her. This happened again and she asked who he was. He replied, 'Don't you know me? Didn't you ever see me? Don't you know that you see me all the time? It is I that takes care of all things, whatever there is on earth. I am the Sun's inner form. In my very presence you came into being, in my presence you were put into shape, even I was among them!' He then indicated that First Man had directed him to do this.

"The next day, she decided to bathe because the young man might visit her again. While bathing, the young man appeared again and, with the collaboration of the dripping water, impregnated Changing Woman. In nine days, twins were born to Changing Woman. These twins were to become Monster Slayer and Born for Water. The one which was named Monster Slayer was to become the salvation of the people by ridding the world of all monsters. The other which was named Child of Water would purify and cleanse the water so the people may live."

A blood-curdling scream shocked Cara, and she dropped her fork suddenly onto her plate, bolting from her seat as she rushed to the door. "Shima!" John exclaimed. "You must stay inside!"

Unconcerned for herself, Cara bolted down the stairs of the cabin porch, her eyes widening when she saw two men dressed in all black rushing toward her. As she began to back away, she felt the strong grasp of Yiska's hand on her arm, dragging her toward another cabin as he attempted to block her from the two men. She ran with Yiska, her eyes widening when she saw them draw their guns, firing rounds at Yiska but missing as he pulled her into the opened cabin. She saw another tall, strong brown-skinned man she didn't know who expertly aimed a mechanical bow at the men, shooting a swift arrow into the arm of one of the men as she was shoved into a closet by Yiska, panicking as he bolted the door. "YISKA!" she yelled, slamming her fist on the wood that entrapped her. She froze as she heard the cries of a man being stabbed on the other side of the door, not knowing who had died, and she quickly looked around in the closet for a weapon to defend herself with, finding only an axe which was heavy in her arms. She breathed heavily, the sudden silence of the room scaring her as she gripped the axe, ready to defend herself as the door opened. Quickly seeing it was Yiska, she closed her eyes in relief and felt herself being pulled from the closet deeper into the cabin, her grip still tight on the axe. As they fled the room, she saw the man who had died had been one of the men after her, joined by the other man who tried to protect her with his bow on the floor in a pool of blood.

"Shima," Yiska said quickly, forcing her down into a root cellar, "do not come out until I come get you. You will be safe here."

"No!" Cara objected, grabbing Yiska's arm. She looked into the teenager's eyes, baffled at his physical strength and courage for being only a child. "I can fight!"

"Shima, you are in grave danger. Stay," Yiska ordered, slamming the cellar door shut before Cara could object. She tried to press against the cellar door, seeing it was bolted tightly shut by Yiska, who she could hear now wrestling with another man.

"NO!" she screamed when she heard the gunshot, hearing a body fall, in her heart knowing it was Yiska. She gripped the axe tightly, backing into the root cellar as she heard the door unlatch, the darkness of the cellar masking who was at the top of the stairs. Wielding her axe, she swung at the man who approached her, seeing him duck out of the way as she threw the axe at him and tried to bolt up the stairs. The man grabbed her ankles on her way up, causing her to fall hard onto the wood as he dragged her back down onto the dirt, pressing her body down as she squirmed and fought underneath him, screaming for help. She tried to reach the smooth handle of the axe she had flung at the man, nearly hitting him before, as it lay beside her, feeling the man yank her upward, gripping her tightly as he dragged her up the stairs. Still kicking against him, Cara's eyes widened as they fell on Yiska's lifeless body near the cellar door, screaming in pain as the man twisted her arms behind her, dragging her out of the cabin.

The man pressed a gun to her temple, kicking open the cabin door and proceeding to pull her down the porch stairs when he suddenly stopped. Cara felt her entire body being twisted forcefully, the gun being pressed deeper against her temple as her eyes fell on Will in front of her, aiming a gun at the man who held her. "Will!" she whispered, crying out in pain as the man bent her limbs unnaturally backwards, feeling as if her arms would break.

"Drop your gun!" Will demanded, taking a step toward the man in black who held Cara tightly.

"Actually, I think it's you who should drop yours," the man said, slamming the nose of the gun into Cara's head for emphasis.

Cara saw Mulder and Scully both approaching the man, their guns drawn. "Come any closer and I shoot her!" the man warned, causing both Mulder and Scully to stop, their weapons still aimed. "Drop your guns. NOW!" Mulder swallowed, lowering his gun and Scully followed suit, Will still holding his tightly. "Drop it!" the man ordered, seeing Mulder and Scully complied.

Will locked eyes with Cara, searching them briefly as he kept his gun drawn. "I'll kill her," the man warned. "If you want her to live, then drop it."

Cara closed her eyes and bit her lip as she saw Will lower his weapon slowly, breathing hard as he crouched near the gun with his hands out at his sides. Praying her boldness would work, Cara raised her knee swiftly and kicked the man behind her, separating herself enough from him so that Will was able to grab his gun, expertly aiming at the man in black as he shot him in the neck. Hearing two rounds fired but knowing Will only shot one, Cara looked back at the man who held her, seeing him lifeless on the ground, then turned sharply when she heard Scully scream Will's name, seeing Will slump to the ground, blood leaking from the upper left quadrant of his chest, a bullet lodged deep near his heart.

"WILL!" Cara screamed, rushing down to him as she tried to cover the bleeding with her hands. "Will, come on, damnit, heal!" She was terrified - she had never seen this much blood escape his body, and his skin was growing paler as his body was weakened. "WILL! No! NO!"

She ripped open his shirt as Scully came down to her son's side, watching his labored breathing. "The bullet contains magnetite," she quickly concluded, seeing how her son was struggling against the object that normally wouldn't have affected him. He had been shot at point-blank range, and the only reason he was still alive was because of his inhuman strength, which was quickly fading away under the power of the magnetite lodged into his chest.

"We need to get him to a hospital! It needs to be removed!" Cara said, tears rushing down her face as she gripped Will's hand, watching as his eyes focused on her but his attempts to speak were muted by the pain he felt.

"There's no time!" Scully said, turning to Mulder. "Mulder, get him in the cabin!" she instructed. Cara felt Will's hand slip away from hers as Mulder lifted the mostly-lifeless body of his son, Shilah now grabbing his legs to assist as they carried him in the cabin. Cara followed Scully as they rushed behind them, Scully barking orders to anyone who was around to prepare for surgery. Cara watched as Mulder and Shilah laid Will carefully on the kitchen table, the long wood barely holding his lanky frame as he breathed shallowly, the blood continuing to run from his chest.

Seeing her try to break through to him, Mulder intercepted Cara, grabbing her gently as he stopped her from going in. "Let me go!" she screamed, fighting against him as she tried to get to Will. "I need to be with him!"

"You don't want to see this," Mulder said firmly.

"LET ME GO!" Cara demanded, violently flailing against Mulder as he held her, his heart breaking even more as he saw the tears on her face running down. "I NEED TO GO! I NEED TO SEE HIM! LET ME GO!"

Unable to convince her otherwise, Mulder reluctantly let Cara go, feeling her nearly tackle him as she bolted for the kitchen, rushing to Will's side and gripping his hand. "Come on," she whispered, "come on, Will … please …"

With her makeshift surgical tools that were boiled for sterilization, Scully cut into Will's chest, and Will groaned in pain, feeling his strength leaving him rapidly and now no longer immune to pain as he had been before. He gripped Cara's hand, feeling the braid of the ring he made her under his fingertips as he yelled, feeling the knife Scully drug across his chest sinking into his skin.

Mulder watched through tears as he stood near Scully, feeling helpless and angry as he saw his son suffering. When Will cried out in pain as Scully dug deeper for the bullet, Mulder turned away, slamming his fist into the wall beside him, his tears flowing freely as he listened.

Cara stroked Will's forehead that was slick with sweat, her own tears falling onto his outstretched arm as she gripped his hand, closing her eyes as she felt him tighten against the forceps Scully had constructed that invaded his flesh.

With a look of panicked shock on her face, Scully removed the forceps, her lips quivering as she realized that Will was losing the battle against the magnetite, that the bullet was too deep and he was losing far too much blood. "Scully!" she heard Mulder yell, seeing him burst into the room. He held out a dark rock to her, which caused Will to lurch in violent pain. "Scully, the magnetite will draw it out. It will draw the iron out of his body."

"Mulder, if he's subjected to this exposure for too long, he will _die_!" Scully argued.

"Scully, he's dying now! Damnit, we have to try!" Mulder yelled.

Cara watched in silence as Scully reluctantly held the large dark rock Mulder gave her over Will's opened chest, closing her eyes as she saw her son writhe in pain under it, knowing the properties of the stone were causing him unbearable pain as it threatened to draw his entire being into it. Still gripping his left hand with her left hand, Cara kneeled, the fingers of her right hand sinking into his sweat-covered hair, gently massaging his head as she closed her eyes, her lips hovering near his ear as she sang softly:

"Were I a little bird  
and had two little wings,  
I'd fly to thee;  
But I must stay, because  
that cannot be."

She gasped as she felt him strain against her, hearing his pain as he was subjected to the magnetite, her voice rocky as she continued.

"Though I be far from thee,  
in sleep I dwell with thee.  
Thy voice I hear.  
But when I wake again,  
then all is drear."

Cara could hear Mulder and Scully's voices in the distance, her heart and mind focused on Will, who groaned in pain, feeling his hand tighten on hers as she quivered with sorrow.

"Each nightly hour my heart  
with thoughts of thee will start,  
When I'm alone;  
for thou hast a thousand times,  
pledged me thine own."

Her eyes opened when she felt Will lurch forward, the particles of the magnetite that had exploded into his chest drawn out into the rock Scully held over his heart. Her mouth hung open as she watched Will's breathing deepen, seeing the color return to his face as his chest miraculously began to heal itself. She saw Scully toss the rock away, gripping her son's face in joy as Will leaned slowly back down, still holding Cara's hand as she knelt beside him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "William?" Mulder said gently, his hand finding his son's hair and stroking it, feeling the sheen of sweat that covered it. "William, say something!"

Will breathed deeply for a moment, moistening his lips as he looked at his mother and father, squeezing Cara's hand as he felt her eyes locked on him. "Who are you?" he said softly to his parents, then smiling gently to let them know he was kidding, seeing the look of relief wash over their faces.

"Oh my God, William," Scully said, throwing her arms around her son. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!" she ordered as she buried her face into his shoulder.

"I'll try not to," Will said weakly back, closing his eyes as he felt his father kiss his forehead. When they parted from him, Mulder helped Will to sit up, now seeing his strength returning to him as his body regenerated. Will turned to Cara, who slowly stood from her knees, and she threw her arms around him, pressing her head against his completely healed chest as she listened for his heart beat, which was steady and strong. He smoothed her hair as he held her, closing his eyes as his breathing slowed.

He pulled away from Cara, seeing the way her face was marked and her clothes were dirty and torn. "Are you okay?" he asked, his hand resting gently on her stomach with concern.

Cara smiled in relief as she felt not one, but two distinguished kicks against Will's hand from inside her womb. "We're fine," she whispered, accepting Will's lips as they pressed onto hers.

* * *

Denver, CO

"Sir … we tried to get ahold of Jameson, Barnes, Foster and Michaels … they're not responding." The young agent standing in front of SAC Klim in the shadowed office swallowed hard, seeing Klim's angered reaction. "Sir … what are your orders?" he asked meekly.

"Find out what happened," SAC Klim said in a low voice. As the young agent began to leave, SAC Klim raised his hand. "No," he said firmly, changing his mind. "Wait." He sat in silence for a moment as he stared ahead at the wall in front of him in deep thought. "Let him go," SAC Klim said, a smile growing across his face. "Let him think he won." SAC Klim picked up a dark rock that sat on his desk, fingering it carefully as he smiled. "Let him let his guard down."

"But … sir … the Shield … we need to collect her for the others."

"And we will. But first, I want to see him suffer," SAC Klim said, still looking at the rock he held. "Then I'll take care of her."

* * *

New York City, NY

"They have failed to collect the Shield," the toothpick man said, hanging up the secured telephone in the darkened room they gathered in.

"Imbeciles," the mustache man growled, slamming his spent cigar into the ashtray. "This is why this task _shouldn't _have been entrusted to humans!" His eyes fell on the bounty hunter, who tilted his head as he listened.

"They served their purpose," the bounty hunter replied stiffly. "Do not question my methods."

"And what purpose is that?" the mustache man argued. "To expose us?"

"Using them, we lead them to believe that if they are successful once, they can be successful again," the bounty hunter said, sipping his drink.

"We are letting the FBI go after them again?" the dark-skinned man asked, baffled.

"No," the bounty hunter replied. "We will send replacements posing as them, who will not only eliminate the middle-man but William and his family as well."

"What replacements will be sent?" the younger man asked. "The entire area is laden with magnetite!"

"The ones that we will create from the bodies of those who failed us," the bounty hunter said, resting a small vile of liquid down on the mahogany for the others to see. "Ones that will be given the proper equipment for the job," he added with a small smile.

The phone rang, cutting through the silence. "Yes?" the toothpick man answered, pausing as he listened. "Yes. Are you certain? No, wait for our instruction." He hung up the phone, turning to the others. "Our informant has just notified me that he has reason to believe the Shield is carrying two children."

"Twins?" the dark-skinned man said with a small gasp.

"The prophecy!" the younger man said, his eyes wide.

"It's merely folklore," the bounty hunter said calmly.

"How can you be sure?" the mustache man demanded. "What if these children are what they think they are?"

"They must be destroyed immediately!" the toothpick man exclaimed. "We cannot wait until they gestate to find out!"

"What if they cannot be destroyed, like the prophecy says?" the young man asked softly.

"Everything can be destroyed," the bounty hunter replied, his tone silencing the rest. "Including the children of William Mulder."


	24. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

3 months later  
May 25, 2012  
Shiprock Territory Trading Post, NM

He tapped his foot impatiently, listening to the ring of the phone on the other end of the line he used at the local trading post near the cabins. Muttering pleas for the other end to be answered, he drummed his fingers, his ear pressed against the speaker of the payphone.

"Yeah," John Doggett answered on the other end.

"Doggett, it's Mulder," Mulder said quickly, relieved to hear the agent answer.

"Mulder! What the hell are you doing calling me? Aren't you suppose to be attending to William or something?"

"Where are you?" Mulder asked impatiently. He glanced at his watch, wincing as he saw how close he was cutting it.

"We just landed!" Doggett said. "Monica's driving us out there now."

"Damn. I was hoping to go over what you had for me before the ceremony."

"We're still about twenty miles away."

"Shit," Mulder grumbled, checking the suit he was wearing to make sure it wasn't dirty or wrinkled already.

"Scully's going to kill you if she knows you snuck off to call me," Doggett noted.

"Don't remind me," Mulder sighed. "Alright, right after, then. We'll review it then."

"Mulder … you know, you should relax. Your son is getting married tonight."

Grumbling, Mulder hung up, sighing as he got back into the truck he drove to the trading post, heading back toward the cabins, clutching the bouquet of flowers he was instructed to buy for Cara.

* * *

A half-hour later, Mulder was thankful that the bouquet of native wildflowers had survived the journey home, the truck covered in dust from the hasty and wild return trip. He stepped inside the cabin he and Scully shared, calling out cautiously, knowing it was highly possible that his soon-to-be daughter-in-law was still in the process of dressing. "Lucy, I'm home," he yelled, not seeing anything in his immediate view. Shutting the door behind him, he sighed, resting the bouquet on the table.

"Mulder!"

He jumped, hearing Scully's voice behind him. He turned toward her, seeing her hands on her hips as she was wrapped in a robe. "Where the hell have you been?" she asked. Her eyes traveled down to his suit. "And what the hell have you been doing? You're covered in dust!"

"Well, in case you didn't notice, Scully, we now live in the desert and dust is everywhere."

"Mulder … it took you an hour and a half to get those flowers. It should have only taken thirty minutes." Scully frowned. "You waited for Doggett to land, didn't you?" she said. "You tried to talk to him before the ceremony."

"Scully-"

"Mulder …" Scully shook her head. "Just … dust yourself off and … STAY HERE. The wedding is in an hour." She paused. "And do NOT ask Doggett ANY questions until TOMORROW. Just give your son and his bride tonight to have a normal life. Okay?"

Mulder watched sheepishly as Scully grabbed the flowers from the table, eyeing him as she turned, leaving the room. He knew it wasn't something he should've done, but ever since he found out that Doggett had new leads on the Colonists' plans, Mulder had been dying for the information. Since they took up living in the cabins with the Hosteen family three months ago, their lives became a lot simpler, their cell phones disconnected to avoid detection, as well as no computers or internet access, except for at the trading post that was a ten mile round-trip. Religiously, Mulder went to the trading post every Friday to call Doggett from a payphone, using a blocking method he learned in the FBI. Doggett would then fill him in on whatever he was able to gather regarding the plans of the Colonists as well as providing other vital updates. Waiting wasn't something Mulder did well, and even though Cara and Will had selected today as their wedding day, he thought he would still be able to converse with Doggett in secret before the event, knowing Scully forbade him to talk about it at all that day.

Patting his jacket to rid himself of dust, Mulder sighed, knowing both Doggett and Scully were right. William and Cara deserved his undivided attention tonight. They deserved a perfectly normal wedding, since he knew their lives over the last four months had been and would continue to be anything but normal. Tonight at their Najavo-style evening wedding ceremony, they deserved to be two young people in love. Mulder admired his son's ability to actually _ask_ Cara the question he wished he could have asked Scully so many times, and he sighed as he sat, now thinking about the wedding he never gave her.

His lips parted and he stood when he saw Cara enter the room, Scully following closely behind along with two other women from the village they lived in. The first time he had seen Cara, she was badly beaten, bruised and near death - yet even then, he saw how radiantly beautiful she was, and understood, at least on that level, why his son had fallen so hard for her. He would soon come to know her better, admiring her strength, courage and passion, as well as recognizing the deep connection she shared with his son. Now, as she stepped out toward where he was standing, Mulder smiled, realizing that in this moment, nothing else mattered besides this night for Will.

She stood tall, the crisp white dress she wore hugging her chest above her rounded stomach, now clearly showing she was pregnant as it flowed easily over the soft curve in her figure. The long, bell-shaped sleeves of the dress were adorned with red, turquoise and gold threads of embroidery around them, matching the detailed embroidery of the sash that rested just above her baby bump. Her hair had lightened to a radiant mixture of her natural blonde and light brown from both dye that had faded and days spent in the bright, desert sun. Tonight, she wore it loosely braided, the middle and ends secured in beautiful turquoise clips as it draped over her shoulder, stray pieces of hair framing her face. Her skin had tanned easily in the New Mexico desert, the new golden tone of it highlighting the blue of her eyes. Though he knew there were faint traces of makeup, it didn't matter - she was stunning, breath-taking, and he was never more proud to call her his daughter in law.

"I'm … I'm not a dress girl," Cara said softly, seeing how Mulder stared at her. "I've never really been." She looked down, embarrassed as she clutched the flowers he bought for her, misreading Mulder's intense stare as judgment rather than admiration.

"Cara," Mulder said softly; Scully smiled with pride as she saw how he bestowed fatherly love on Cara, taking her hand into his, "you're stunning. You're absolutely breath-taking."

"I feel huge," Cara whispered, laughing softly as her free hand went to her already well-rounded stomach.

"As a member of the opposite sex," Mulder said softly, "believe me when I say that you look gorgeous."

"Thank you," Cara said, smiling as she squeezed his hands.

Mulder looked back at Scully, his smile widening as he saw her in a beautifully colorful embroidered floral sleeveless dress that hugged her petite frame, accentuating the curves that haunted his mind every time he saw them. Her strawberry-blonde hair flowed easily over her shoulders and her ivory skin glowed, her blue eyes radiant. "If you'll excuse me," he said gently to Cara, "I need to go steal my heart back from someone."

Cara smiled, watching as Mulder took Scully into his arms, pressing a sensual kiss onto her lips that lasted a few moments longer than it should have in public, his body language clearly expressing his appreciation of her. Cara laughed with the two women from the village as Mulder tried to drag Scully away, waving them off. "We'll see you tomorrow," he mumbled teasingly. "Hope you have a great night."

"Mulder …" Scully pulled away from him, her eyes shining as she smiled up at him, her fingers rearranging his thick brown hair.

"You," Mulder whispered, kissing her cheek, "you are radiant."

"Mulder-"

"You're so damn hot," he whispered, causing her to giggle softly. "I want to do so many things to you right now."

"Shh!"

"Can we just postpone the wedding?" he continued. "I mean, I really don't think what I have in mind can wait."

"Mulder …"

"Dana Scully," he interrupted, "I love you."

"I love you too, Fox Mulder."

* * *

Knowing he inherited his father's impatience, Will chewed on his bottom lip as he waited, standing in front of the few people who had gathered to witness their ceremony. He folded, unfolded and refolded his hands several times, trying to calm his nerves as he felt his father next to him, nudging him to relax. Will wore a traditional Navajo long-sleeve black shirt with white embroidery that highlighted his large, fit frame, matched with black dress pants and western boots, a necklace constructed of turquoise beads with a small silver sun hanging from his neck as a gift from the elders of the tribe. On his wrist he wore the cord he had braided three months prior, never taking it off since that moment, and now his fingers searched it out, rolling the braid between themselves as he tried to steady his pulse.

Will felt his entire body freeze, including his heartbeat, when he finally saw her in the glow of the setting sun and the many torches lit around them. Being the elder of the clan, John escorted Cara down a blanketed aisle in between the few guests who attended the small ceremony that began at dusk that night, Doggett, Reyes, Skinner and Gibson among them as they took in Cara's stunning appearance with awe. Will wasn't sure if he was breathing or not as he watched Cara come toward him, her eyes locked on his and her smile widened as she neared him. The willowy sounds of a flute and the rhythmic percussion of the men who chanted and drummed off to the side filled the air as they processed, coming to stop in front of Will. As the music continued, John took Cara's hand, placing it in Will's, and then stood behind them between their hands as they sat, Mulder and Scully sitting on either side of them as the guests took their seats.

John held a jug of water in his hands, pouring the water into a bowl that he rested between Will and Cara. "This water will cleanse William and Caraline as they prepare to unite, washing away their past darkness and past loves, so that they might share in the future as one." John took their hands, placing them in the bowl as he poured more water over them, chanting a blessing as they kept their hands submerged. He handed them a towel, and they shared it to dry their hands, hearing John continue. "They feed each other this cornmeal," he said, placing a woven basket with cornmeal mush between them, "to remind them to nourish their love through everything, that it is essential to their life as a new family." Will carefully picked up some of the cornmeal mush, smiling as he fed it to Cara, then watched as she picked up some for him, tasting it as he ate it from her hands.

Will gripped Cara's hand as they stood, Scully and Mulder following suit while the guests remained seated. "The fire they now light will demonstrate their unity," John said, handing a torch to Will, who allowed Cara to grasp it with him, lighting a tall pillar fire behind them, watching as it roared to life with flames. "Now you have lit a fire and that fire should not go out. The two of you now have a fire that represents love, understanding and a philosophy of life. It will give you heat, food, warmth and happiness. The new fire represents a new beginning - a new life and a new family. The fire should keep burning; you should stay together. You have lit the fire for life, until old age separates you."

John smiled as he placed Cara's hand in Will's, folding them together. "Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter to the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth for the other. Now there is no room for loneliness, for each of you will be a companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is but one life before you. Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your togetherness. And may your days be good and long upon this earth, William and Caraline Mulder."

Scully beamed in pride as she watched her son grip Cara's hand, her eyes falling on Mulder, who she swore she had never seen smile wider than that night. The melodic chanting and drumbeats continued as Will and Cara kissed gently, Will's hand resting lovingly on Cara's rounded stomach. They parted and moved down the blanket aisle, the guests standing and applauding with joy. Reyes wiped the tears from her eyes, squeezing Doggett's hand as they watched them depart to the fire-pillar-lit meadow, where the people now joined them to feast and dance, celebrating the union of Will and Cara.

* * *

A little while later, Mulder found himself alone with Doggett, watching as Will danced with Scully, feeling an unmistakable sense of pride as he took in the sight of his son. He had danced with Cara earlier, but she now opted to rest, her hand smoothing over her womb as she sat nearby, smiling at Will and Scully. "Well," Doggett said softly with a smile, "at least there is still good in the world."

He hadn't meant it to be a lead-in, but Mulder took it as one anyway. "I need to know what you know," Mulder said softly, still watching Will and Scully.

"Mulder …"

"I have to know." Mulder's voice was firm.

"Tomorrow," Doggett tried to offer as a compromise.

"Now," Mulder replied, meeting Doggett's eyes with his.

Doggett nodded reluctantly. "Alright. ... Well, going off of that hunch you had a while back, I dug a bit deeper into the Daniel Riggs case. Riggs and the other guy who was killed, Garrett McFarland, were both chemistry professors at Stevens Institute of Technology, right? Well, as it turns out, they were also former FBI, though I had to do a bit of digging to connect back to them. Want to take a guess at who they served under covertly?"

"Kersh," Mulder mumbled.

"Bingo. Now here's where it gets interesting. Guess who Riggs is related to?"

"The pope?"

"Maryann Riggs, also known as Maryann English … Cara's mother."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Daniel Riggs was Maryann's big brother, who was working on the Shield Project with Timothy, his brother in law. The way I see it, Riggs sold Timothy out to a Colonist in exchange for protection, most likely. The Project collapses and Timothy goes into hiding after erasing Cara's memories, probably of Riggs too. Once Riggs realizes what he's done and has a change of heart, he begins to try to develop a chemical weapon to aid in the inevitable invasion, partnering with McFarland in secret. Riggs still works for the Colonists, but then is later found out and killed after they kill McFarland for his involvement."

"They took Riggs, then, to flush Timothy out," Mulder said softly, connecting the dots as he caught Scully's eyes from a distance, hoping she didn't suspect him of bringing the topic up with Doggett.

"Mmm-hmm," Doggett replied. "And by flushing Timothy out, they got to confirm Cara as the Shield, then they dump Riggs' body for Cara to conveniently be distracted by upon her return home so they can set up their game for William."

"Makes sense," Mulder mumbled. "You said before on the phone that you had your own hunch, though?"

"Yeah. So … being as Riggs' body was found near Sybil's Cave, and how Cara found that bone fragment, I dug a little deeper on the results of the fragment. Turns out forensics wasn't completely honest, and I had to finagle to get down to the truth, since some of the biologists were working with local archaeologists and museums on determining its origin. It is a dog bone, but not Lassie's. This type of dog hasn't existed for over a thousand years."

"What?"

"It gets better. I also looked into some history on Sybil's Cave. Aside from it being Edgar Allen Poe's inspiration for one of his mysteries, it's the oldest manmade structure in Hoboken, created in 1832 by the Stevens family as a folly on their property that contained a natural spring. By the mid-19th century, the cave was a recreational destination within walking distance from downtown Hoboken … even a restaurant offered outdoor refreshments beside the cave. When the Stevens' family property became Stevens Institute, the cave became property of the Institute, only to be shut down in the 1880s due to concern of the 'lack of potable drinking water' it held after two mysterious disappearances and later deaths, and it's still not open to the public today. Mulder, guess what kind of deposits are in the cave?"

"Petroleum," Mulder said, his voice soft as his anger rose inside.

"You got it. And guess what a press release just issued yesterday by the State of New Jersey Environmental Department has just announced?" Doggett paused. "They're actively working to reopen the cave for quote 'public exploration and water consumption' as part of the state's sustainability initiatives. They plan to bottle the water drawn from the cave and sell it nation-wide."

"Shit," Mulder said, his eyes widening. "They know the Purity is in there and that it's been in there a long time. That's how they're doing it. That's how they'll repopulate … through water." He swallowed, feeling his heart race as he absorbed the information. He then remembered how he told Cara before that there was no relevance to the cave and her discovery, that it was merely a distraction, which now he knew it to be false. More than likely, it was the two children with powers beyond their understanding inside of her womb that had tried to warn them all, and Mulder felt ashamed as he realized that he, too, had been a pawn used in the Colonists' game. His lack of faith in Cara's instincts had caused them to miss the most important element of all, his inability to relinquish control getting the best of him, destroying their chance to safely intercede against their deadly plans. "They can't open that cave," Mulder said quickly. "When is the anticipated opening?"

"October 13, 2012. When Cara's due. They will start selling the bottled water on December 22nd."

"They're banking on splitting William's focus," Mulder concluded, glancing back toward his son, who now kissed his mother on her cheek after their dance had ended. He felt sick, now knowing why he should have waited to hear what he just did until after the wedding. "Tell no one right now," Mulder murmured, seeing Will begin to approach them. "I can't … I can't do it to them."

"Mulder, William now probably already knows," Doggett pointed out quietly, slipping away as Will stopped in front of his father, his brown eyes fixed on him.

"How?" Will asked softly.

"William-"

"I want to hear you say it." Will's voice was firm, yet soft as he tried to keep the conversation between him and Mulder.

"Not tonight," Mulder said, trying to brush aside Will's request.

"Yes, tonight," Will replied. "Don't make me reach into your brain and get it myself. Show me the respect of telling me to my face."

"Fine," Mulder said, his jaw tightening. "It's the water … they're going to contaminate the water with Purity to infect the people, hiding under the guise of environmentalism."

Will's eyebrow arched. "When?"

"October 13th."

Mulder saw Will's eyes shut. "Cara."

"They're banking on you making a choice."

"I can't leave her," Will said softly, looking over at Cara, who was talking with some women as they touched her stomach. "They'll kill her. And the children."

"I know," Mulder replied.

"And … if I don't interceed, the people will become infected and hosts for their repopulation plans."

Mulder watched as his son's eyes were locked on Cara, seeing how Cara held her stomach as she stood. "William …"

"No," Will said firmly, turning to Mulder. "She can't know."

"She needs to."

"Not tonight. Just … let her be my wife tonight." Will looked back over at Cara. "Let her be the mother of my children. Just … let me not fuck up her life for once, alright?" Will asked, searching his father's eyes.

Mulder nodded. "Alright," he replied softly, watching Will as he left his side, then taking Cara in his arms and embracing her as he closed his eyes, pressing his face into her hair, feeling the softness of it against his skin.

* * *

As Will lay in the darkness of their cabin that night, his arms wrapped around Cara as she slept, his heart sank, the weight of the cold, dark reality that waited for him so soon consuming his mind and his spirit. He felt her turn in his arms, now facing him as she nuzzled into his chest. "What's wrong?" she murmured, still half asleep.

"Absolutely nothing," Will lied convincingly, stroking her back under the thick blanket, her flesh still-heated from their passionate love-making only a short time before. He felt her relax in his arms, and he tightened them around her, closing his eyes to fight the tears that escaped. John had said his decision to save his parents would determine the course of the future, and that the three lives he now held in his arms were more valuable than any others. He now understood, knowing that because his parents were still alive, there was still the opportunity for them to be harmed, spurring on yet another fate-altering choice. Yet, as he stared at the ceiling in the darkness, his silent tears falling, he continued to be crushed mercilessly by the truth:

No matter what choice he made, more people would die as they had before - all because of him.

* * *

**BOOK #3: "FIRE"  
****COMING SOON!**


	25. Acknowledgements

_I would just like to take the opportunity to thank all of the wonderful fans, readers, authors and supporters_  
_on FF dot net for taking the time to read and/or review this story! It is such a great community of people that I continue to be inspired by. _  
_I truly hope you enjoyed the second installment of this post-IWTB trilogy, and that you'll join me for the last adventure, entitled **"Fire"** coming soon!_

_When the trilogy is finished, let me know if you think Chris Carter should be sent a copy in the mail ..._

_Hey, a girl can want to believe, right?_

_;)_


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